Playing With Fire
by ladyofwater
Summary: Out on a routine exorsizm, the Winchester boys find twins like Sam that are a little too hot to handle...I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Original Characters, however, are my creation.
1. Prologue

It was dark and fuzzy. _Fuzzy?_ A strange description for the scene before her, but she didn't ask why. She already knew. This is what told her it was a dream. That what she was seeing hadn't happened. Not that she needed to watch. This particular dream had been invading her sleep for over a month now.

Two men, as different as night and day from each other winding the corridors of some rundown building. Complete opposites – but family. How could she tell they were brothers? It was in their eyes; the look they gave each other was the same she saw in her own brother's eyes in a serious situation. The look of silent communication and understanding that could only come from spending a lifetime with someone.

The one in front was definitely the leader, glock positioned at the ready. Short-cropped hair, and piercing hazel eyes, yep, definitely a 'do what I say and don't piss me off' kind of guy. Well, except for the occasional smart ass comment every five minutes.

The one behind him is a little taller, but she knows he's the younger of the two. She can see it in his eyes. She's seen this dream enough times now to know them both almost intimately. She knows the older brother will watch the front while the other keeps stealing glances behind them, even though that's 'her' job.

Behind them was a girl about their age; straw-colored hair loose and wavy. Her ice blue eyes almost shined in the dark.

This was a face she knew even better than the boys' – it stared back at her in the mirror every day. The only difference was the hair – her hair almost reached her waist, but this woman's was much shorter.

They crept slowly, following the winding corridor. _Left. Right. Right. Straight._ _Door._ They're inside a room now. They have to be in some sort of warehouse, there were crates and barrels everywhere. A single lamp shine from the ceiling, but it can only cover a small portion of the room, leaving everything that couldn't be covered by their flashlights cloaked in darkness.

They weren't the only ones there, she knew that too. Here's where the sound always went fuzzy – like it was a bad recording or something. She guessed it was the figure hiding in the darkness that spoke first, because the trio would always jump and turn in the direction of where he was. Then the boys would start shouting.

It would be here any second, she knew. There – a hand made itself visible, pointing out horizontally toward the two boys. In his hand was an old gun – a colt, she guessed – with weird designs twisted around the barrel.

No matter how many times she saw this dream, she could never see the face. She'd long since come to the conclusion that she wasn't supposed to see it. The hand however she studied closely.

There was really nothing remarkable about it, save a long scar running diagonally from the pinky to the thumb. It was also, she noted, a man's hand.

_Here it comes._ It always happened the same: the older brother's gun would fly out of his hand like an invisible force had struck it as the gun pointed to the other sibling. As she watched from the sidelines, the vision went into slow motion: the gun cocked and fired. As she watched the bullet fly to the younger sibling, her reflection moved to stand in its path. She watched herself shield the younger brother, her scream echoing through the room. The bullet struck her heart, its force shoving her back into the one she was shielding. As she shared the blinding pain, the dream forced her out, into the waking world.

Bolting up in bed, she screamed the very name she had herd her reflection shout. In another part of the house there was a thud and a curse, then, her brother was calling her name, groping in the darkness. The lights to her room switched on and a weight settled on the foot of her bed. Her brother called her name, trying to grab her attention, but she was so fixated on something new the dream had given her, she didn't hear. Her voice, crying out in the darkness to save that man she had never met, echoed through her brain.

"Evee, what is it. I know it's the dream again, but what else. You're acting so weird Evee, what's wrong?"

Pale lips opened a fraction. She stared at the candle on her nightstand, its wax fully melted in the extreme heat of the room. The wax dripped to the floor as she sighed out a single word. It was so soft, that he almost missed it. The night was quiet. It was still a few hours until sunrise.

"Sam…"


	2. Chapter 1

"I can't believe we've sunk this low."

Blue eyes turned heaven-wards and a sigh of exasperation could be heard.

"Quit whining, you know we're doing this as a favor to Ellen."

He started to pout. "But this isn't even a real job. I mean come on Sam, couldn't we have found something a little less….easy?

Sam frowned from the passenger's seat, and shifted so he could face his brother more fully. A smile of mild sarcasm tugged at his lips. "Well, sure Dean, no problem, lets go find us another hunt." He sat back in mock thought. "Oh, wait. There is that little detail about there _not being any._"

And indeed that was true. There had been a definite lull in paranormal activities in the last two weeks. At least, none were getting to them at the bar. In that time, Dean had managed to drive Ellen, Ash and even Jo to the end of their tightly reined tempers. Then one of Ellen's old friends had called yesterday needing someone to do a simple exorcism, and Ellen had practically shoved them out the door at gunpoint to make them go.

"I can't believe we've sunk this low."

Sam sighed. _16._ "You said that already. A few times. Besides, think of the bright side"

Hazel eyes turned to pin on him in a glower meant to say:_ as if there could be a bright side._

Sam ignored it. "For once, someone actually asked for help. That means no lying or breaking and entering or anything else illegal. And Ellen said this guy Tex is gonna give us free room and board for the weekend. Plus, she said he's even gonna _pay_ us a little for the trouble." He looked back at his brother. Sure enough, at the mention of money, a little sparkle had entered his brother's previously unhappy eyes. But as quickly as it had come, it was gone: Dean Winchester's mood could not be manipulated by anybody.

As the familiar scowl set itself onto his brother's face, Sam sat back and relaxed. It was still another five hours to Jourdanton, Texas after all.

"I can't believe we've sunk this low."

Five hours and twelve consecutive under-the-breath complaints later, the car finally stopped in front of an old building. Dean had seen more than his fair share of towns with a main street right out of those old western movies, so the sight did little to appease his sour mood. Truth be told, he wouldn't be caught dead exorcising benevolent ghosts, but getting paid would make him stand it for a few hours. As he waited for Sam to unfold himself from the front seat, Dean looked up to the sky and, not for the first time, wondered if someone up there was playing some cruel practical joke on him.

Tex owned one of those historic saloons (it was called the _Shady Rest_) with a rich history and colorful ghost stories. His brother being a former hunter, he knew of the four ghosts residing within the halls of the hotel. They weren't really dangerous; they just made a few appearances every once and a while, flicked the lamps and such, and left the guests with some colorful stories to take home. Tex had been content to let them stay, until one of the ghosts opened the wrong room door. A four year-old had slipped past his parents' eyes and nearly broken his neck falling down the stairs. Unfortunately, that bit of luck was what led Tex to the decision to exorcise them; he couldn't afford to get sued for their little pranks.

Sam and Dean entered the bar of the saloon and looked around. Standing behind the bar was a tall muscular man with a long, peppered moustache and a ponytail of hair. Currently he was doing what had to be the most stereotypical thing you could do behind a bar: cleaning a glass with a rag.

Sam turned to his brother. "Think that's him?" he joked out softly.

Dean didn't turn to his brother. "Has to be," he said, then huffed. At Sam's questioning look he replied, "He looks like he couldn't decide whether to be a cowboy or a biker." Sam chuckled.

The guy behind the counter was indeed Tex. "Well, welcome!" he said after they introduced themselves. Tex, it seemed, was nothing more than a big teddy bear. Grinning from ear to ear, he shook their hands. He picked up their bags with only a token complaint from the two brothers and headed upstairs. "It's good of you boys to come," he said, and Dean bristled at the word 'boys'. "I'd do this myself, c'ept I have to run the _Shady Rest_. Truth is, I don't have time to look for the bodies. Two of them are in the town's graveyard, but the other two aren't that easy to find." He stopped at one of the doors.

Do you have any idea where we can start looking for the other two?" Sam asked, all business. Dean rolled his eyes. Tex thought for a minute, then his eyes lit up.

"One of the Thompson twins might be able to help you." He said. "Tristan shows up here a lot, but Evelyn is probably the better one to ask about the town's history."

"Why should we ask her?" asked Dean.

Tex smiled. "She's a history major. Always askin' about the stuff that went on in the saloon. The Thompson's don't actually live here, but their ancestor's helped build this town. Those two are both in college, but decided to come and stay in the house they own here."

"They don't live here?" asked Sam curiously.

Tex shook his head. "Nope. I think they live out somewhere in California with their grandmother. Tristan told me they came here for some peace and quiet."

"Well, Dean said, ready to get this over with, "Where can we find Evelyn then?"

"She trains at a dojo downtown, "he replied, "its too early for the place to be open, but I think Evelyn is supposed to be in class around eight o'clock."

"Dojo?" asked Sam. A history major that was into martial arts? Tex laughed.

"Weird, ain't it – a bookworm fighting?" he asked. "Both of 'em are like that, though. I think it has something to do with their grandfather being in the navy. Tristan doesn't usually go, but Evelyn likes to help out the Thornton's every so often."

"Alright," Sam said, looking at his watch. It read 4:25. " We'll get some rest and be down around seven."

The brothers said goodbye and entered their rooms.

Sam and Dean left the saloon at eight thirty and walked the two blocks distance to the dojo. They walked in and walked up to the front desk. An older woman, maybe 40 years old sat behind it, filing her nails. She had her dull red hair up in an old fashioned beehive and couldn't have looked more out of place if she had tried.

"Um, excuse me," Sam said with a polite smile, " Can you tell me where we can find Evelyn Thompson?"

The woman looked them up and down for a moment. "Sorry," she said in a bored tone, "You're gonna hafta wait to set up a private lesson. My son got injured out in the woods last night, and she volunteered to teach his class. You can leave your number here if you want, or you can wait until it ends at nine."

Dean, who'd been staring out at the room where the class was, turned to flash her one of his 'melt in your socks' smiles. "Thank you, but we'll wait," he said smoothly to the woman, making her blush. He then proceeded to sit down on a folding chair provided for non-participants, Sam hot on her hells. He was just about to go into another ever-so productive tirade of 'dude, she's old enough to be your _grandmother'_ when he noticed Dean's stare. Sam followed his line-of-sight, wondering what could have caught his brother's attention.

There were maybe ten people out on the floor split up and standing near opposing walls. In the middle of the room, a girl sat with her hands on her thighs, her long blond braid trailing her back. Sam couldn't see her face, but even from the back he knew she was a looker. _That's why he wanted to stay, _Sam snorted to himself. _I wonder if that's Evelyn._

It happened quickly. From out of nowhere, the closest gi-clad student ran towards the woman, sending a kick at her when he got in range. Dean was standing up to interfere on reflex, until he saw the woman block the leg effortlessly. As she rose, she blocked the oncoming punch, grasping the man's wrist, and twisting it until he was on the floor. The second student was already half way there before he hit, putting her arm around the woman's neck. But again the blonde moved, flipped the girl over her shoulder and punched her in the shoulder for good measure.

Sam was in shock. _This girl kicks ass. _He thought dazedly.

"I think I'm in love," Dean mumbled, startling Sam out of his daze to look at his brother. Dean stared unblinking at the woman in the center, his mouth slightly open.

"You're not the only one," Sam agreed, turning back to the action. The students each seemed to be on a timer. Every fifteen seconds or so, another one would run to the center of the room to attack the woman. Eventually, Dean realized that she was confined: there was a large circle on the floor that the woman had yet to set foot out of. Some of the students, when they couldn't out fight her, opted to try and subdue her enough to drag her out of it. But no one could. Once a student was on the ground, they returned to the sidelines in the back of the line, only to try again.

A buzzer went off, and both boys jumped. The class however, ceased fighting the woman immediately and moved to form three lines facing a wall of mirrors. The woman, who had been on the receiving end of the battle, walked to the front to face them. _So that _is_ Evelyn,_ Sam thought. The students stretched a little and cooled down, and then the girl began to speak to them.

"Alright guys," she said, "Great class. I know Jeff is out nursing some claw marks on his chest, but he said he should be back for Monday's class. Have a great night, and I hope you're all not too sore tomorrow." The class chuckled and went their ways. Evelyn slipped into the locker room. Dean turned to his brother.

"Attacked in the woods by something with claws? You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" There was that glint in his eye, Sam noted dismally, and his posture reminded Sam of childhood Dean being told by their father that he could go on a hunt.

"Ok," he conceded, "We'll look into it." Dean looked like he wanted to bounce up and down in his chair. "_After_ we finish what we came to do." At that, Dean's smile faded a little, but his mood was now lifted.

The girl came out of the locker (hair down), walked up to the 'Beehive Lady' as Dean had now dubbed her, and began to talk to her. Noticing the boy's approach, the woman piped up. "Oh yeah," she said, smiling at Dean, "these boys wanted to schedule a private lesson with you."

The girl turned around, and Sam could feel Dean's 'fall for me' smirk the moment it fell into place. Oh, well, he couldn't help it the girl was really attractive. _No she's _hot, he thought. Her ice-blue eyes almost seemed alive in themselves. She was tall for a girl, though she still only came up to Dean's nose, and had the toned body of a fighter.

At the sight of them, the girl visibly blanched. Face pale; she had to take a step back. Sam exchanged questioning eyes with his brother. But when he looked back, her smile was firmly in place, as if the slip had never happened. _What was that?_ Sam thought. Unsurprisingly, Dean recovered first.

"Actually," he stated, "We just need a bit of information. Tex said you were a history buff and might be able to help us out. We need to find some names from the local cemetery."

The girl smiled. "Sure," she said, "I have a bunch of the town's old records at my house, mister-"

"Dean." He replied. "Dean Winchester, and this is my little brother Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean only pulled the 'little brother' routine when he wanted to get into some girl's pants. But the girl seemed to look intently at him for a moment before turning back to his brother. _Ha! _He thought. _Maybe this one likes me better._ He flashed Dean a look to convey his thought, and Dean's eyes narrowed at him.

Evelyn smiled. "My name is Evelyn Thompson, but you can just call me Evee."

Since her Ducati could only seat two, Evee walked the boys back to the saloon. She then led them to her house while they followed in the Impala, Dean raving the whole time about chicks on motorcycles, and Sam begging him to be civil. The Thompson Ranch was quite a ways out of town. The clear blue sky lit up by the nearly full moon as they rode.

The whole house was dark when they got there, Evee disappearing in the detached garage only to emerge again moments later. "My brother usually stays out at the saloon around this time of night," she explained, opening the front door. The house was a fairly big one-story. Evee explained that it was a historical landmark nearly filled with antiques.

Evee gave them some beers and left the room to get some papers out of her office. "So," she said, dropping the papers on the coffee table, dust filling the air, "you guys are here to exorcise those ghosts for Tex, right?"

Dean and Sam stared at her in surprise. "Don't look so shocked." She laughed. "Tex probably told you that I was a history major at UOP. He probably didn't tell you I majored in folk tales and the occult."

Sam laughed a little, but Dean had caught on to something. "You _were_ a history major?" he said.

Evee sighed. "Yeah, my brother and I decided we needed a little break from school. We won't be returning until the fall." She smiled at them. " My brother Tristan is the one that convinced him that they needed to go. Here's the old records from the cemetery downtown." She sighed, "I don't know why we have half of this stuff."

Over the next two hours (and more than a few beers), they searched through the files to try and find their two missing ghosts. Dean sent several flirtatious remarks in Evee's direction. Evee countered them all, seemingly immune to his charms. Sam found himself actually enjoying the night.

"Hey," Dean said as he rose, stretching. "Could you tell me where the bathroom is?"

"End of the hall," said Evee, sitting back. Sam did the same as Dean exited.

"So," he said, "does anyone live here while you're gone?"

Evee laughed. "Tex gave you the 411, huh? Its okay. Nope, nobody has lived here in a while, but its quiet and out of the way. My brother and I like it that way. Usually we stay with our grandmother, but she lives in Pasadena, and that's about the opposite of quiet. Our father left us this place after he died."

"Oh," said Sam, "I'm sorry-"

"It's ok," said Evee quickly. "It happened when we were young. After my mother died, my dad's spirit kind of died with her. He left us well cared for, though. My grandfather was an ex Navy SEAL, and he taught us a lot, hence the fighting. My grandmother though, well, my Uncle Kevin calls her a loony." She laughed. "She is a little kooky, if you catch my drift."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"You could call my grandmother a psychic, but she never had a 1-800 number or anything. She just always seems to know when we're in trouble." She sighed.

Evee smiled, and something in Sam did a little flip-flop. They worked for a second, before her head popped up out of some papers. "I found him!" she said excitedly.

After relieving himself, Dean turned out the lights and headed down the hall. There were three doors here: two on the left, and one on the right. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw a gleam of white. The right door was cracked open. Even with the door shielding most of the room, Dean could see several papers tacked up on the wall. Curious, he walked to the door and opened it. He found the light after a few seconds, and switched it on. What he saw caused adrenaline to pump through his chest.


	3. Chapter 2

Short chappie. Yeah, I like to end in cliffies, oh, well. Reviews would be appreciated. Thanks, and on with the show!

Tristan sat at the bar nursing a beer. Evee's dreams had been getting so intense lately; there was blood on her hands when she woke up in the mornings. He was beginning to get really worried. There had to be some way to stop what was going to happen in her visions. Neither of them had ever had anything close to a premonition before. And they had always had the same power. That was unusual; up until she had started getting these dreams, he and Eve had been about equal when it acme to all the freaky things they could do.

It bugged him, her power. Why was she getting so much stronger than him? He was the firstborn; he should be stronger than her.

Tex came up to him, breaking his train of thought. "Thanks for helpin' me make my choice about them ghosts," he said brightly. "Those two hunters Ellen sent got here today. They'll have to do a little research to find the other two bodies, but Ellen said they were good, so I wouldn't worry."

Tristan looked up at him. "Why two if there so good?"

Tex shrugged. "Ellen said they were brothers." His grin widened. "She also said one was drivin' her nuts, and she needed him outa there before she shot him."

Tristan snorted. "Sounds like he's an ass. So, how are they going to find the others?"

"I pointed them in your sister's direction," he replied, "you know how many papers she has on the town's past. Oh, and don't worry; Sam told me he'd keep a tight leash on his hot-headed brother."

Tristan felt his blood run cold. "Is Sam the older brother?" he asked hopefully. Evee had told him about her dreams several times, and it had been the younger one her future-self would save.

Tex had to think on that. "No, he said finally, "I think it's the younger one. Though it's kind of hard to tell because he's taller than his brother. Why do you ask?"

But Tristan was already out the door, old-fashioned shutters swinging back and forth.

Evee was laughing at something funny Sam had said when Dean burst into the room, revolver in hand. "Sam, "he said quickly, "Get away from her."

They were both standing up by the time he finished his sentence. Sam put his hand up in a placating gesture, while Evee stared at Dean's cold, glittering hazel eyes. Where was the laughter and mischief that had been in there earlier?

Sam looked at his brother, confused. "Dean– "

"_Now._" Dean said, every ounce the command it sounded. Acting on reflex he obeyed, coming to stand shoulder-shoulder with his brother. He looked at Evee. What was wrong with her? She'd had plenty of chances to hurt both of them and hadn't, so why was Dean aiming a revolver at her heart? Sam knew that there was only rock salt in his gun, but the young woman across from him had no idea.

Evee's eyes flickered between each brother and the gun with a marginal amount of fear. The only other thing that shown in her eyes, Sam noted with some confusion, was disappointment. What was going on here?

Answering his unspoken question, Dean held out an object to him. It was a canvas, about the size of a newspaper. Dean handed it to him backwards, so Sam turned it around to see what was on it.

He promptly dropped the painting.

The whole canvas seemed alive with reds, oranges and yellows swirling outward from the center.

And in the center of the panting hung a woman in a nightgown.

_Mom._ Sam thought before looking up at Evee again.

"Explain." Dean commanded, in full-blown hunter mode. "Now."

Evee seemed at a loss. She opened her mouth to speak – then promptly shut it again.

The gun cocked, and Dean's eyes grew sinister. "You've got drawings of the two of us _covering_ your office, and a painted picture of our mother. _Explain_."

Sam's head spun. "What?" he said. _Pictures of us?_

"She's got sketches of you and me tacked up in her office," he explained, green eyes trained on ice blue, "from just about every angle. Hell, she's even got a few of the _colt_ on the wall."

Sam 's head jerked to Dean. _The colt?_ Only a handful of people knew about that gun. Who was this girl?

Evee sighed and hung her head. Then, with no fear whatsoever, she slowly walked toward the fallen painting. Both boys retreated just as slow, until their backs were against the wall, and she was at the canvas.

Kneeling down, Evee picked up the painting and studied its face quietly. She ran her hands over the texture of the paint. Dean was about to lose his temper when she finally spoke.

"This isn't your mother," she said quietly. Den's arm tightened, his expression unchanged. Sam looked to his brother before turning back to the woman in front of him. Though he already had an idea of what she was going to say, he knew, for Dean's sake, he had to ask anyway.

"Who is it, then?" he asked gently.

She looked up at them then, tears shining in her eyes.

"Mine."

Sam had every intention of grabbing his brother's gun away from him, and sitting down for a long talk. She was like him, one of _them._ He didn't know whether to be scared or elated. After all, the last two thirds of his 'kind' had been psychos, she might be too. He never got to decide, thought, because at that moment, all hell broke loose.


	4. Chapter 3

Dean Winchester hadn't even had time to register the fact that his gun was out of his hand before he and Sam were thrown bodily into the wall behind them. Neither of their feet was touching the floor. He looked up to make some scathing comment to Evee about her liking it rough, when he noticed that she wasn't looking at them, but at the doorway. And now she looked truly scared. He turned his head as far to the right as possible. Standing in the doorway was a man with short blond hair. His fists were clenched, his chest was heaving, and he looked _pissed._

Evee got up from her position on the floor and ran to the man.

"Tristan no! Stop, please!" she begged. So this was her brother. Same hair, same eyes, same general age. _Hmm, _thought Dean, _twins._ Just great, they'd pissed off another pair of mentally enabled twins.

Tristan kept his gaze on them. "Why should I?" he asked her. "After you help them, after all you're _going_ to help them with, they point a gun at you?!" His fists were shaking now. Sam chanced a look at his brother. _Going to do? _He thought. _And why is the room so hot?_ It was true. Since Tristan had gotten there, the room seemed to have grown immensely hotter.

Evee rested a hand on his shoulder. "It was a mistake, that's all," she cajoled, "He saw my drawings and kind of flipped out."

"I don't care!" Tristan screamed. He looked at her then, his eyes deliriously happy. "I can save you, Evee. If I kill them now, _It_ won't happen. We can just go about our lives, be happy. C'mon Sis, we can stop it."

Evee bit her lip. If she said yes, Tristan would make sure that the only thing left of the brothers was a pile of ash. She could be free; those dreams would never come true. But there was something nagging her in the back of her mind. Something told her that these two were important, _very _important. There had to be a reason her future self would die trying to protect them. The sensation spread slowly through her until every fiber of her being called out the same plea: _protect them._

Evee moved slowly until she was standing between the brothers and her twin. She stood so that Tristan could not directly see them. That was Tristan's weakness: his powers weren't as strong if he couldn't directly see you. The grip on Sam's neck slackened just a little.

Tristan eyed his sister. "Evee –"

"No," she said firmly, "You can't kill them." He looked at her incredulously.

"Please," he said quietly, "I can save you."

Evee looked back at the two men still dangling from the wall. She turned to her brother. "They need to live." She said softly.

The rage in her brother's eyes intensified to an almost tangible level. "Always have to play the martyr, don't you Evee?" he roared, "Fine. If you won't save yourself, I will." Tristan shoved past her, knocking her to the floor. Walking up to Dean, he stood almost nose-to-nose with him. Dean's clothes began to smolder as he struggled to get free. Tristan smile was cold.

"Die."

Dean watched, mesmerized as fire appeared between the two of them. Tristan looked up at his sister nervously. "You're going to betray me?" he asked. "Your own brother? Come on Evee, they're never going to appreciate you."

Evee stared at her brother – tears in her eyes. "They need to live," she repeated, "and if there's one thing my dreams have taught me, it's that I have to protect them." The flames grew in front of Dean, and then exploded into Tristan, knocking him through a window. Sam and Dean suddenly applied to the laws of physics again, as the slumped to the ground, coughing. Dean had to pat out the smoldering parts of his jacket. Evee crawled over to the boys, concern on her face.

"Are you two all right?" she asked.

Dean only looked at her distrustfully.

"Pyrokinesis?" Sam asked. At her nod, he continued. "It showed up about two years ago?"

Evee leaned against the coffee table. "Yeah, that's about right, though I didn't start getting those dreams until about a month ago. You sure you're all right? No burns?"

"I think so," he replied. "What was in the dreams?"

Evee looked down, caressing the painting. It was a moment before she spoke. "You said this was your mother; does that mean she burned too?" Sam nodded.

"Answer the question." Dean said harshly. Sam looked at him.

"What's with you?" he asked. "Usually you try to be optimistic about the people we meet that are like me."

Still staring at Evee, and _still in hunter mode_, Dean spoke. "Why didn't she tell us? She's had plenty of time to say, 'hey, by the way, I've seen you two in my dreams, and I can burn things with my mind.' But _no_, we have to find out when her psycho brother comes in and nearly flam bays us, not to mention he charbroiled my jacked."

Sam laughed. "You're just sore that he hurt your jacket."

Dean snorted. "That doesn't matter." He addressed Evee. "Dreams. What about them."

She looked up at him. "I've been seeing the same scene in my dreams for the last month. It gets a little fuzzy in some places, but I know the three of us are in a warehouse. We get to this room, and some guy with a scar on his hand points a gun at us. I've never seen his face." She laughed. "I guess we're both freaks."

Dean snorted and nodded his head vigorously, causing Sam and Evee to laugh. Evee let out a breath. That they hadn't asked for any more details was good; how do you tell someone you know you're going to die protecting his little brother?

"Come on," she said, "I need to see if Tristan is alright. That shouldn't have hurt him too badly; we're immune to fire. Then maybe we can go take care of those graves."

A/N: As you might have guessed, the first four chapters (and prologue) were written together. That I'm only just now posting the third chapter is due partially to editing: I'm trying to make sure I don't skimp on the content. I don't have a beta, so if you see any mistakes (or you want to be my beta) write me. I like feedback, but flames are a waste of time. Chapter four is in the process of editing, so it should be out shortly. Thanks!


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Has anyone besides me noticed that all of the 'Demon's Children' like Sam have been male on the show? And that the loved ones burned on the ceiling have been female? I'm currently working on a theory that may be implemented in this story, or maybe the next one (yes, that concept is _already_ bouncing around in my head). I like my character Evee, though at the moment she's pretty much just an emo-freak. Don't worry, I set up the karate class for a reason wink. As always, comments are appreciated, but, to those that would flame, there is an old saying about putting your opinions where the sun don't shine…Ah well, on with the show!

The boys followed Evee to the spot where Tristan would have landed, only to find him not there. Glass and blood had littered the dirt. A trail of blood could be seen leading to the garage. "He's gotta be in there," said Evee.

Dean put a hand on her shoulder. "Look," he said, "as much I look forward to standing between two flamethrowers, I think its best that Sam and I go take care of Tex's uninvited guests while you go smooth things over with Mr. Personality."

Sam frowned. "But what if he attacks her-"

"He won't," Evee broke in, "we're twins, remember? The dreams I've been having made him kind of jumpy, that's all. He's not a bad guy. I'm sure that once he gets to know you –"

"We'll all be close as kittens." Dean replied sarcastically. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure that'll happen. But we've got a job to do, and I'm sorry if I'm not over-eager to meet the guy that tried to Hanzel and Gretel me a few minutes ago." He started to pull Sam in the direction of the car. "Cool him off and we'll have the meet and greet tomorrow, ok?"

Evee hung her head as they departed. "Yeah," she said softly, "sure. Tomorrow." She watched the retreating car as it kicked up dust on the dirt driveway. Slowly making her way to the garage, Evee sighed. Why did everything have to go all lop-sided?

The lights were out in the garage. The building itself wasn't extraordinary, just a two-car garage with stairs to the attic in the back. There was quite a bit of room: Evee's Ducati took up one of the car spaces, Tristan's old pick-up in the other. Everything was pitch black, but she and Tristan had cleaned the space out themselves upon moving in, so she managed to make it to Tristan without any major bumps.

There had always been a connection between them, the freaky events of the last two years aside. They could find each other in a hurricane; the dark was not an obstacle. Each knew when the other was happy, sad, injured, or elated.

The feeling of betrayal flooded Evee's senses: Tristan was pissed. There he was, sitting on the steps to the attic, his right arm cradled in his lap. He didn't look up as she approached the stairs. His eyes focused on the step below him, he spoke.

"You chose them," he said softly, and Evee's heart bled at the hurt in his voice. Tristan's head snapped up to look her square in the eye. "After everything we've been through together, you choose _them_? I'm your _brother_, Evee, your twin. I've been there for you through every major event in your life, at times I was all you had, and you choose two boys you know will be responsible for your _death _in the near future." By now, he was screaming at the top of his lungs. The air around the two was hotter, and the calendar on the wall was burning. Tristan stood, both hands clenched as blood dripped from his right hand onto the step below. "Not only that." He said, voice icy now, "but you use your powers against me. Evee, we have _never _used pyrokenesis against each other. What's so special about them, huh? What makes them so important that you can injure your own twin to protect them?"

Evee looked down then, conviction suddenly strained. Why was she compelled to protect them? It wasn't anything tangible, other than…

"They're like us," she said, looking up at her brother. Tristan seemed startled by her answer; he hadn't been expecting one. Encouraged, Evee continued. "Dean saw that painting I did of Mom, and kind of freaked. He thought it was a picture of _his_ mother."

Tristan abruptly sat again, shocked. "It happened to them too?" he asked. Evee nodded in the dark.

"Yeah. Do you know what this means, Tris'? It means it wasn't our fault. We never knew how we could harness our powers as infants and not be able use them until recently. That means something else caused our mom to die." She took his uninjured hand in her own, and looked into his eyes. "They could know how it happened, we could finally find out why we lost our parents. I need you to trust me, Tris. They're good people, the dream showed me that at least. Just please, come and talk to them."

Tristan sighed. The Winchester brothers would eventually endanger the life of his younger sister, who was probably the only person he couldn't live without being in this world. On the other hand, Evee was the best judge of character he had ever seen, so if she said they were good people, it had to be true. He looked at his bleeding hand. He knew his anger about the events in Evee's dream wasn't mostly in the right direction. Where was he? Why didn't he protect his sister?

Standing, Tristan let himself be led to the front of the garage. As they approached the door, he said, "Okay, I'll talk to them. I've always trusted your judgment before, now's not really the time to change that habit."

Evee laughed, "Yeah, since last time, it nearly got you thrown off a second story balcony."

Tristan scowled. "Hey, she told me her parents were in Spain." This only made Evee laugh harder.

"All right then, lover-boy," she said, "let's get you bandaged up so we can go see my boys in the morning."

It was Tristan's turn to chuckle; "Why Evelyn, I never took you for a polygamist…" she slapped him on the arm.

"You're one sick puppy," she laughed. They walked into the house.

As the door shut, a shadow moved from the garage to the woods. Halfway into the forest it stopped at a gnarled tree.

"Well?" a voice said impatiently.

"She's treating his wounds," she shadow said timidly. This particular shadow wished to exist for a long time, and bringing bad news to its master just might bring the opposite.

"And why didn't he hurt her after she defended them?" it asked slowly. If the shadow could have gulped, it would have. The master was very angry.

"I-I don't know," he said softly, "we've never tried to trick twins into killing each other before. I planted the seed of jealousy into the brother, but it doesn't seem to have affected him. Perhaps if we –"

The shadow never got to make his suggestion, for in that moment, a beam of light came down, destroying it forever. The being behind the tree chuckled to himself.

"Then perhaps we should try a more direct approach this time."

A/N: DUN DUN DUN! What is it with me and cliffies lately? Oh well. The next chapter is already half written, so hopefully it'll be out tomorrow. Bye!


	6. Chapter 5

Sam groaned and reached over to smash the alarm clock with a massive fist. 11:30 am. _Shit._ The boys had been out until dawn that morning digging up graves. The good news was that Tex's saloon was now free of supernatural squatters. The bad news Sam found out as he tried to take a shower. As he reached up to shampoo his hair, he found that his arms were too sore to lift even parallel to the floor. Getting dressed also proved to be a problem, so much so that by the time he got out of the bathroom, Dean was already up doing research on their laptop. Sam eyed him enviously as he stretched, seemingly unaffected by last night's activities. Noticing his brother's appearance into the room, Dean looked up.

"Get a haircut, you hippie," Dean said casually, and then looked at his watch. It was twelve thirty. "Make that hippe-girl. Took you long enough. What, did you lose track of time fantasizing about dropping the soap?"

The only reply he received was a damp towel thrown at his face. Sam snorted lightly as he walked over to the night stand. Comments like that had become the norm for him and Dean over the last year or so. And that hippie remark was as likely to come out of Dean's mouth first thing in the morning as 'sleep well?' was from any other person. It was hard for a lot of people to understand Dean. Most couldn't read between the lines in his sarcastic comments.

Picking up his cell, Sam checked his messages. Dean slept through everything, and on nights like the one they had, Sam usually ended up doing the same. Sure enough: one missed call. Listening to the message, Sam turned to his brother, who was just about to enter the bathroom. "Evee called. She says she'll meet us down in the saloon around one. She's bringing Tristan."

Dean frowned. "Probably wants him in a place he likes so he doesn't burn it down." He shrugged. "Well, let's hope the service was good last night." With that, he shut the door to the bathroom, ending the conversation.

Twenty minutes later, Dean was ready to go. Sam could have gone ahead, but he knew Dean would ream him through for it. The last time they had seen Tristan, he had tried to kill them. Dean didn't have to say anything for Sam to know that they were going to go in together to watch each other's backs.

The brothers made it downstairs five minutes before one to find the Thompson's already seated in a booth. Dean noted that Evee was seated on the outside of the booth. It was strategic: boxing him in made Tristan easier to control. It also made him look less intimidating to the other party. Sitting down in the booth, Dean took the inside for a different reason. If Tristan went all Drew Barrymore on them, then Sam would be able to get away from the heat faster. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, then shook his head as he sat.

Tristan's right arm was bandaged up to his elbow. Upon seeing the brothers, his eyebrows had dropped into a scowl. He didn't trust them. Well, he guessed the feeling was mutual based on the stone-cold poker face Dean was giving him. Sam just looked a little wary. Tristan turned to his sister. She was definitely the worst off. She had bags under her bloodshot eyes from tossing and turning the night before, and her voice was a little scratchy. They had a fight on the way to the saloon this morning; Evee had made him swear not to tell the boys about her getting shot in her dreams. He didn't understand _why._ If she was so adamant on protecting them, why couldn't he at least warn them not to go into any warehouses with her in the future?

An awkward silence settled on the booth. Finally, it was Sam that tried to make peace. "So," he said to Tristan, "the two of you can bend fire, huh? That's cool."

Tristan snorted, locked in a staring contest with Dean. "Yeah, it helps a lot when assholes point guns at my sister."

"Tristan!" said Evee, shocked.

"Well, _excuse me_ if I got a little jumpy from seeing drawings of me and my brother plastered all over a room like stalker photos!" Dean quipped.

"Yeah," Tristan replied, "Well maybe if you weren't so hot-headed and didn't pull out your gun every time things got so confusing, things might have been explained calmly."

Dean laughed. "Look who's talking Mr. Burn-Now-Ask-Questions-Later –"

"What happened to your mother?"

Both boys turned to look at Evee. She had directed her question to Sam (while studiously ignoring the two of them) with a gentle expression of old grief on her face. Following her lead, Sam ignored the others as well. He told her about his mother dieing on the ceiling of his nursery, and of the demon responsible. When he got to the part about the demon killing mothers of others with their abilities, the temperature in the room spiked.

"Hey," Dean said casually to Tristan, "you mind turnin' down the thermostat?"

Tristan, who had been looking at Sam as he told their story turned to Dean and ruefully shook his head. "It ain't me." He then turned to Evee, placing a hand on each shoulder. In a soft voice the brothers had yet to hear him use, he spoke to her. "Calm down Evee. They've been gone for a while, you can't bring them back."

She ignored him, focusing on Sam. "How many?" she demanded. "How many children did that bastard leave motherless? I'm going to kill him!"

Sam shook his head. "We don't know. But its not just mothers he's killed." Sam looked away and sighed softly. "My girlfriend died the same way." That seemed to stop Evee's train of thought. As the heat leveled out, she placed a hand on his. Startled, Sam looked back at her.

Dean cleared his throat, "As much as I hate to interrupt this chick-flick moment, Sammy and I have some other business to atten-"

"**EVELYN!!!!!**"

Evee was out of her seat and halfway to the door when a girl about sixteen or seventeen entered the saloon, tears pouring down her face. "Claire, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly as the girl literally crashed into her arms. Claire sniffled.

"I was driving by Mr. Thornton's house, and there was yellow tape everywhere. The police were all over the place. Then I saw them wheeling out a big black bag." She sobbed. "Mrs. Thornton's dead Evee! One of the police told me she was attacked by some kind of animal. He said if I saw Mr. Thornton to call the cops!" Claire then proceeded to break down. It took several hours (and several bowls of ice cream from Tex) to calm her down.

By the time Claire's mother had picked her up, the sun was setting. Evee thanked Tex and followed Tristan to his pickup. Sam and Dean had left a long time ago to go check the Thornton house, Dean now convinced that they had a job. The boys had made plans to meet the twins at their house, since it wasn't far from the Thornton's.

Evee had just finished cooking spaghetti when there was a nock on the door. In strolled Sam and Dean, the latter looking like he had just found a twenty on the sidewalk. "So, do you have a hunt?" Evee asked, curious about the details of hunting.

"Yep," said Dean, practically skipping. "Looks like your town has a werewolf problem."

Tristan, who had just entered the room, arched a brow incredulously. "Werewolves?" he asked.

"Lycanthropes," Dean said, "The whole house was practically covered in werewolf fur. There were claw marks all over the walls too, way to big to be a bear's."

Evee listened as she set the table. She motioned for everyone to sit while she brought out dinner. Sam noticed the two extra settings. "Evee, you didn't have to make us dinner –" he started, but she cut him off.

"I know, but I wanted to. Now: about the attacks. Do you know who they'll go after next?" still abashed about the food Sam turned to his brother – to find Dean already halfway through his meal.

"That's what's strange. Contrary to popular belief, werewolves don't usually attack people. They prefer livestock to humans. The only time they usually attack humans is when the ranks in their pack get too low. We haven't heard of any werewolf hunts at the roadhouse in the past few weeks, so I don't think there are any hunters after them in the area. They probably bit your friend Jeff because of his martial arts training. Werewolves like their packs strong."

Dean, who had just finished his first bowl and was reaching to get seconds, looked over at Tristan, the twin closest to him. "So other than that Jeff guy, who's the strongest person in town?" he asked, then started to slurp some noodles. "By the way," he mumbled to Evee, this is fantastic. I can't remember the last time I had a home cooked meal." Sam sighed and shook his head. Trust in his brother to embarrass the hell out of him.

"I don't know," admitted Tristan, "I would consider Tex, except he's really just a big teddy bear. Really the only other good fighters in this town are me and Evee."

Just then, a loud howl pierced the night air. Dean looked up at Sam sharply, and then they both bolted for the door. Tristan and Evee were hot on their heels. Dean reached the door first, flinging it open, and then shut almost in the same motion. "Damn," he muttered to himself, "with a coincidence like that, you'd think someone was writing this shit."

"How many?" Sam asked, knowing why his brother was reacting this way.

Dean looked up at him from his position of leaning on the heavy wooden door. "I saw two outside, which means there's at least two more out there somewhere. Damn it, we just had to come here on the harvest moon."

Sam shrugged, "Hey, you were all excited about this a few minutes ago."

Dean scowled at his brother. "Yeah, well that's when I thought we were going to be hunting when we were ready; Sam, all out weapons are out in the car!"

Sam paled, but Evee just arched an eyebrow, placing her hands on her hips. "Well, why didn't you say you needed guns? We got some in the study."

Dean stared at her. "You do?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded. "A couple different handguns and two Chinese assault riffles." Dean just stared. "What? We're Navy brats, remember?" Tristan had already left to get the guns.

"The only problem," Sam stated as Tristan returned, "Is that regular bullets aren't going to do much against these guys. We're going to need the silver bullets in the trunk if we're gonna make it."

"Don't worry," Tristan said, smirking, "I've got a plan. Which one of you boys is the faster runner?"

_A/N: Geeze, with all these cliffies, my writing is probably getting a little predictable. Oh well, I like ending at the end of a thought, SO THERE, lol. I may be changing the rating of this fic soon, so stay on your toes!_

_The Cat's Whiskers__: I agree with your assessment of Tristan. I was trying to make the doubt underlying, and I think it was a bit too strong. The result: I took out the 'man' comment ('cause it wasn't really relevant anyway), and pretty much added a filler chapter to help solidify the twins' relationship. Make no mistake: my twins are very close, but waking up every night to your sister screaming at the top of her lungs can kind of get to you after a while. By the way, thanks, your critique helped a lot, and I'm even more pleased with how much more rounded my twins seem now. sigh - I talk (write?) a lot, don't I? Thanks for the comment! _


	7. Chapter 6

_A/N: I forgot to mention: I've never been to Jourdanton, TX before. I just picked a random name out of the Yahoo directory. I checked to make sure it was small, but for any misinformation I may have given, oh well. This is fiction. I could say grass was pink and unicorns walked around everyday farting on people to help them have a better day. But no, I'm picking a random town for a random hunt._

_I don't own Excedrin, though the company did single-handedly get me through three years of college. I also hold no rights to the movie Cursed, so please don't sue._

_Well, that's my rant for the evening._

There weren't any street lights lighting up the Thornton house, so no one driving past would notice a couple of seven foot dogs with bad tempers walking past the black Impala on his back legs. They might have noticed the peppered grey one on the roof, but the tree line by the road blocked the view. That is, they might have noticed, if the road hadn't been deserted by sundown. In a small town like Jourdanton, Texas, practically everyone that wasn't at the saloon was already home.

The door opened suddenly, and a figure darted out into the night. Simultaneously, the flood lights turned on, temporarily blinding the canines outside. It took the werewolves a moment to get a mental hold on the situation, and by that time, Dean was already digging in the trunk. One of the few pieces of input Dean had allowed Sam to make when he was rebuilding the car was a remote-controlled trunk-popper. Despite the growling, Dean could still hear Sam's nonchalant comment of "it could come in handy some day" in his head.

The boy's hadn't been forced to use silver bullets since they had dealt with that zombie about a few months back, so it took Dean a second to find them. Not that he didn't know where they were; they were just buried under some very sharp axes.

The second took too long, and Dean felt the car bounce under his hand. Hands on the clips he needed, he looked up to find a large black werewolf playing surfboard on his car. Dean cursed under his breath; looked like his baby was headed back to the body shop.

The lycan roared, and moved one massive paw to strike. Fully arched, the canned-ham-sized fist began its decent, just as Dean started to smell burnt fur. Dean watched in amazement as smoke turned to fire, and the werewolf jumped back to the ground.

Wasting no more time, he turned to run back to the house, trusting his brother and the twins to watch his back. As he ran, he pulled his gun out of the waste band of his jeans, ejected the rock salt clip, and slammed the new clip home. Tristan and Evee were on either side of the door, backs against the wall. Tristan was focused intently on the black lycan, while Evee looked out for more.

The peppered werewolf chose that moment to jump in, landing between Dean and 'home base.' But Dean already had what he needed. As it burst into flames, Dean took aim. Shooting it twice in the head, he didn't bother waiting for it to fall before doing a one-eighty and placing a bullet between the black one's eyes.

Dean ran back to the door, tossing a clip into his brother's waiting hands as he crossed the threshold. Next came Evee, with Tristan behind her. Tristan closed the door, and then sagged against it.

"Whew!" Evee said, "Let's do that again!" Tristan chuckled.

"Not me," he said, "I feel like I need to take a whole bottle of Excedrin."

"It ain't over yet," said Dean, checking his clip. He looked at Sam in silent communication. Sam nodded, cocking his gun. He turned to the twins. "There's at least two more out there somewhere. I saw one of them, but he didn't attack me. He's got to be the alpha. If we can kill him, we won't have to worry about the other one."

"Why?" Tristan asked. Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Evee beat him to it.

"The leader is the source. Killing him will negate anyone he's turned." Sam arched an eyebrow. "What?" she asked, shrugging. "Folk tales and the Occult? Ring any bells?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam said sheepishly, "sorry."

Evee chuckled. "Besides," she said, "you're not the only one who's seen the movie _Cursed_." The boys laughed.

As luck would have it, Tristan moved away from the door a mere two seconds before it was splintered into toothpicks. Standing in the doorway stood a massive werewolf, easily head and shoulders over the previous two. Tristan dove out of the way, slamming into the wall. Dean tackled Evee, who was standing right in front of the big lycan's path, to the ground. The wood floors caused them to both slide into the kitchen. Sam took aim and fired twice into the alpha's gut. In response, it backhanded Sam, sending him flying.

Tristan was now the closest one to the creature, and all alone. He concentrated on setting the thing's fur ablaze, but hitting the wall had made him extremely dizzy.

It was so close, he could smell the werewolf's putrid breath by the time Dean came out of the kitchen, gun raised. Simultaneously, Sam emerged from the living room. Dean's Shots hit first, this time tearing a cry of pain from the creature. Sam shot at it as it advanced on his brother, foam dripping from its mouth. Two sets of claws pierced his arms as the thing picked Dean up bodily and slammed him into the wall. Growling, the alpha leaned down, massive jaws open. Hot breath covered Dean. Sam was still shooting, but the werewolf didn't move.

The scent of burning fur and flesh hit Dean's nose once again, and suddenly the huge lycan let go. Dean sank to the ground, wondering why the heat of the massive creature's hot breath still choked him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Evee. Hands clenched, she walked slowly towards the demon. She was so angry it almost looked to Dean like she was glowing.

No, she _was_ glowing! The air around her was so hot, it waved around her, making her seem almost transparent. It was then that Dean realized the 'hot breath' was actually the backlash of Evee's power.

The alpha lycan was burning all over now, his painful yowls drowning out even the fire. Every second he burned, bore of his body was covered by fire. Trying to escape, he ran to the window Tristan had broken with his body the night before. The silver must finally have been taking effect, because the creature couldn't seem to jump over the wall. The curtains caught fire as a second, much smaller werewolf entered the door. It sighted Sam and began to advance.

The sight of his little brother in danger finally snapped Dean out of his trance. He aimed at the one advancing on Sam, then thought better of it. Redirecting his target, Dean took aim and fired. Several things happened at once.

The alpha werewolf immediately stopped trying to escape, only to slump on the floor, motionless. A split second later, the smaller one suddenly grabbed his stomach doubling over. Yowls of pain melded into human cries as the smaller lycan changed back to his human form for good.

With the loss of an outlet to her anger, Evee let go of the power inside of her. Exhausted and overtaxed, her eyes rolled and she slumped to the floor.

"Evee!" Tristan yelled. He was too exhausted to stand, so he settled for crawling to her.

Sam slid to the floor, breathing hard. He picked up his gun and removed the clip, taking a look at the two remaining bullets. Growling, he looked up at Dean sharply. "We sent you to get _silver_ bullets, man. These are _iron_. Damn it Dean, you could have gotten me killed!" Dean shrugged, both bleeding arms.

"Oh well. You're alive aren't you?" he said. He turned to look at the siblings. Tristan had managed to crawl over to Evee, and was currently checking her for injuries. "Hey 'Stan," he said lazily. "You mind taking a minute from doting on your _wife_ and turn off that fire. I sunburn easily."

The fire the alpha had given the drapes had already spread to the loveseat and a rather old-looking rocking chair. Tristan looked startled for a moment, as if he hadn't noticed it was there, then he shut his eyes tightly and the fire slowly dissipated. He sent a lop-sided grin in Dean's direction. "You two are all right." He admitted. "I see now why she likes you." He then promptly passed out. Sam exchanged a look with his brother and shrugged. After a moment, he stood, groaning.

Sam – being the least injured, took charge by retrieving the first-aid kit from the car and dressing Dean's wounds. He made an icepack for Tristan's head, and took two ibuprofen for the back-pain he knew he'd have in the morning. Tristan informed him that the naked man in the living room was actually Jeff Thornton. He had no major wounds, and after about two minutes of trying finally managed to stand. Evee, suffering mostly from mental exhaustion, received ointment for a few cuts. She didn't wake, even for the parts that burned. He voiced his concern to Tristan, who only smiled sadly.

"She'll be alright tomorrow, don't worry. She has a faster bounce-back time from overdoing it than I do."

Sam somehow managed to get all four invalids into the car without incident. The Thompson's house was in no way suitable for them to live, and Jeff's house was taped off, so they were going to be staying at the saloon that night.

"Hey Dean, did we ever figure out _why _the werewolves started attacking people?"

Dean shrugged, and then winced as he upset the wounds on his arms. "Who knows," he said, "maybe some hunters got lucky."

Sam shook his head, "you saw what non-silver bullets did – they hardly even felt it. Something else got to them, Dean."

Pulling out of the driveway, and ignoring Dean's threats about the safety of his 'baby,' Sam just missed the figure standing behind the broken window.

_A/N: Whew! Another action-packed episode! Geeze, why do I have so much energy when I write? I'm thinking of splitting this peice up into episode-like stories. The good side: all the little sub-plots will be neat and contained, and I can change the rating as Dean's potty moth becomes contageous. The bad side: the main plot (Evee's dream) will be spread through about three different stories, meaning the second story might look completely useless. Oh, I don't know. Tell me what you think!_

_If you're wondering about the unicorn thing, it's from a saying I fell in love with a few months ago: 'Life's not all rainbows and unicorn farts.' Just FYI, lol. God, I'm such a dork._


	8. Chapter 7

When Tristan was roused from consciousness, the first thing his addled brain comprehended was exhaustion. Not just simple fatigue, but true, bone-wary, 'I-could-sleep-for-a-week' exhaustion. With the feeling of stiffness in his limbs, he suspected he had done just that. Wondering what could have possibly woken him in such a state, Tristan opened his eyes. Every muscle in his body seemed to burn, and his eyes refused to focus. Everything was a blur.

There was a blob in front of him that could be a head. Someone was standing over him, though he couldn't tell who.

"Evee?" he rasped, and grimaced at how sore his throat was from lack of use.

The unknown person chuckled, and Tristan registered a male voice. One of the Winchester brothers, maybe?

"Not exactly," the man said, and leaned closer. The closer target seemed to have been what his eyes were waiting for, as some of the fuzziness went away. Tristan stared in confusion. Jeff? Why was he here?

"Jeff, what's going on?" he asked, voice scratchy.

Jeff sneered down at him. "Not much," he said sarcastically, "but after all the effort it took to steer those big, stupid dogs at your sister failed miserably, I refuse to leave here without some kind of prize."

Tristan, who had been fighting unconsciousness since he awoke, had time to wonder why Jeff's eyes were yellow before his whole world went black.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Evee walked gingerly down the hall, cursing to herself softly. Why did the next door have to be so damn far away?

Two days after the werewolf attack, she had woken up in a bed at the Shady Rest Saloon. Feeling lonely, she had tried to sit up, only to find that the muscles of her torso refused to do anything other than be in pain. Sighing, Evee opted for the next solution. She reached over and picked up the phone, dialing the front desk number.

As luck would have it, Tex picked up the phone. Ten minutes later, he came into her room with a tray of sandwiches, to which Evee began devouring as fast as she could. Man, was she hungry. While she ate, Tex had filled her in on the info she'd missed in the last two days.

Jeff had left the day after the attack, the police reports and his mother's funeral weighing heavily on his mind. The wounds from his injuries as a werewolf had almost completely healed by morning, remnants of the curse that had been inflicted on him.

Sam and Dean had left the day before on a lead to a possible hunt. It bothered her a little that they hadn't waited for her to wake up, but that feeling eased a little when Tex informed her he'd been told to call the Roadhouse when she'd woken up. But Evee was still confused. Was that it? Did the grand design take a different turn somewhere? Surely if she was supposed to stick with them, destiny wouldn't have let them leave. But then what? Was she just going to be plucked out of her life at some random moment and be placed down in that warehouse with her hair cut?

She was already in her own little world when Tex mentioned Tristan. She snapped back to reality as Tex told her that her brother had passed out just like her, and that he was in the room next to hers. He hadn't checked on Tristan that morning, but all of his cuts had been bandaged up by Sam before he left.

Thirty seconds later, guests on the first floor could hear yelling as Evee tried in vain to get Tex to help her to her brother's room. He'd put his foot down and told her to rest, promising that he would take her to him tomorrow.

Which is why, five minutes after had Tex left, Evee began working on getting up herself. Twenty minutes later, she was currently laboring to get to her brother's door. She used the wall as a crutch as she slumped by. She didn't know why she was so compelled to go to her twin, but she was feeling extremely alone for some reason. The only time she had ever felt like this was when she and Tristan had left Pasadena to go to separate colleges. They had been in different states back then. Being in separate rooms shouldn't bother her. _Maybe it's because he's unconscious,_ she thought.

The doors to the rooms in the hotel used old-fashioned keys. This meant that unless you locked your door with the key, the room remained unlocked. Knowing Tex wouldn't lock them in their rooms, Evee turned the knobs.

The first thing she noticed was that the bed was empty. Squashing her momentary panic, she rationalized that Tristan had probably woken up and gone to the bathroom. She slowly padded around the bed to the opposite end of the room. Evee still felt weak, so when her foot snagged on something on the floor, she didn't have the strength to right herself. She grunted as she hit the floor. Turning onto her back she looked over to see what she had tripped on.

She couldn't stop the scream that wretched itself form her chest.

Jeff was sprawled across the floor, his eyes open and unblinking. She had tripped on his outstretched hand. His shirt had been burnt completely off, and it looked as though someone had cooked his heart from the inside.

This was something that only her brother could do, but that she would never believe he was capable of. Shock settled into her system, and she didn't even flinch as Tex came rushing into the room. She looked around blankly as Tex asked her question after question. She didn't answer. Giving up, he picked her up bridal style to take her back to her room.

The open door to her right caught Evee's eye just before carried her away. A single thought crossed her mind. That thought would be the only thing she would say over the next twenty-four hours, regardless if anyone was around or not.

Tristan wasn't in the bathroom.

_A/N: DUN DUN DUNNNNN!!!! Ok, so who saw that coming? Looks around ME, THAT'S WHO! So as for the prospect of breaking up the story, if I were going to do it, I would do it after the next chapter (though I'm not sure if it'd be a chapter or more of an epilogue). Anyone care to share their thoughts?_


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry it's been so long, I graduate from college in mid December, and am currently running around like a crazy person. Add one Thanksgiving holiday several states away and subtract computers with internet connections, and you've pretty much summed up my whole excuse. Truth is: the only reason I was updating so fast before was due to the wait time of getting my art to render (I'm a 3D modeler). Oh well, 'excuses, excuses,' right?

The headlights of an old Chevy Impala cut through the dark, tree-lined back road.

Dean kept impassive eyes on the road while Sam glared at him.

"Will you stop staring Sammy?" Dean said, exasperated. "I know I'm good looking, but having my baby brother ogle me is just wrong."

Sam's posture hunched even more and his eyes narrowed, as if he were determining the best way to kill his brother. "Dude," he said, "you killed our cell phones."

Dean snorted. "For the last time," he replied. "I did _not_ kill the cells." There was a pause, and Sam saw Dean blanch. "The ghost did."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Oh yeah, of course." He stated sarcastically. "We go to hunt a ghost that messes with electronics. We had to split up to find it. Then you get the bright idea of calling me, and then you chuck the cell when the thing tries to manifest through the receiver. Of course this was the ghost's fault."

Dean slouched a little in his seat, "well if it hadn't of fallen in that sink filled with dishwater…" he mumbled. "Besides, you didn't have to answer. Who knew that thing would short out your phone trying to get though mine?"

Sam's eyes rolled heavenward. "Whatever, now we won't be able to find out anything about Tristan and Evee until we get back to the Roadhouse."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Quit whining." He said. "I'm sure 'Evee the Hot Twin' is just fine." He turned to his brother in mock-horror. "Unless it's Tristan you really want to hear about. Oh, my god, my little brother switched sides." He looked heavenward. "Sorry Dad, we had such high hopes for him." Sam just snorted and slapped him across the arm. Dean pulled away immediately. "No, now, come on. It doesn't matter to me _what _gets you hard, but trying to touch me and all that – that's just _sick._" Sam scowled and turned to stare out the window. Dean couldn't resist. "What more, " he added, "You hit like a girl."

After receiving no response for a moment, Dean turned to his little brother – only to find him in mid precognition.

Sam wasn't making a sound, but his pain was communicated through the full snarl. He was holding his head like he was trying to squish it. As Dean watched, Sam pulled his head back and let out a low groan of pain.

That did it. Within seconds, the Impala was on the side of the road. Dean was out of the car before Sam's body hit the seat. Dean opened the passenger-side door and crouched next to Sam. It took a minute, but after a while the pain seemed to lessen. Moments later, Sam opened his eyes.

Dean didn't say a word. He knew from experience that Sam would take a few minutes to collect himself, then give Dean the Cliff Notes version. His wait was shorter than anticipated.

"How far are we from the Roadhouse?" Sam asked weakly.

Something lodged in to the pit of Dean's stomach. "About two hours," he heard himself say. Without waiting for a response, he walked over to the driver's side and jumped in. Gunning the engine, Dean managed to finally get out "So what can we expect?"

Sam was looking out the window, a grim expression on his face. Not bothering to turn to his brother, Sam said, "Someone's about to try and pick up the wrong girl."

xXx

Ellen Harvelle was having a bad day, and all of her regulars knew it. The result: anyone that had been to the Roadhouse previously found the whole place bathed in unusual quietness. Anyone new wouldn't notice; there was talking, and the jukebox was playing. It was the subtle things, like grown men using quiet voices while on their fifth beer that let her know her regulars were trying really hard not to step on her toes.

Her bad day had started that morning. Jo had tried to slip by her to go hunting again. That disastrous argument had followed with a call from a frantic Tex telling her _his_ charge had actually succeeded in giving the slip.

Ellen sighed and shook her head. Tex had more important things to do than go running after a twenty-two-year-old that was hell-bent on leaving. She didn't think she could blame the girl. Who wouldn't go half-crazy with worry when their other half just disappears? Ellen pinched the bridge of her nose and eyed the five customers in her bar that she hadn't seen before. Four large bikers with shaven heads and facial hair laughed loudly around a table. They'd been here for a while, and were staring to get pretty wasted. She made a mental note to cut them off within the next hour.

The fifth customer was a young woman sitting by herself at the bar. She'd gracefully strolled in about an hour ago, sat down on the corner, ordered a beer, and stayed. She hadn't made a comment since then.

The bikers had noticed her as soon as she had walked in the door. The girl was wearing black leather chaps on top of her blue jeans, and a black motorcycle jacket over a dark red shirt. The flame-decorated helmet she had brought in with her was seated between her and the wall. The bikers had been leering at her ever since.

Ellen counted the minutes. Any time now, one of those skinheads would saunter up to the bar and throw her some cheesy pickup line. Ellen knew that girl wasn't looking for a bed-buddy. She could see in on her face; that girl had the same look she herself held. It was just the kid's luck that she'd walked in here wearing biker's clothes, practically looking like candy to the meatheads across the room. She wondered briefly if she should offer the girl some Aspirin.

Finally, one of the biker's made his move. Ellen wasn't surprised that he looked like the leader of that little gang; alphas always ate first. He sauntered up to the bar and took the seat next to the girl. Ellen's eyes narrowed. The girl wasn't armed that she could tell, but it was never a good idea to corner such an obvious fighter who was in such an obviously bad mood. She moved closer to the sawed-off shotgun hidden under the bar and suppressed a grin as she saw Jo's posture shift to alertness. Jo always could read her like a book. The biker asked Jo for another beer, and Ellen gave her a subtle signal that told her to take her time with the order. He'd had enough anyway.

The biker looked the girl up and down for a second before speaking. "Excuse me," he said casually, "but I was wondering if you could help me with something. You see my friend and I have –"

"Go fuck the pussies back at your own table; I'm not in the mood." She cut him off, not even bothering to look at him.

Taken aback at her bluntness, he stood up, his eyes narrowing in fury. "Now listen here, you little slut – "

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're going to have to excuse her: the medication she's been put on makes her a little moody." Ellen's eyebrows disappeared into her hair. Just when she thought she was going to have to strong-arm that idiot, the Winchester boys had walked into her saloon, looking as ready for a fight as she was. Dean had made a beeline for the girl, standing next to her with his arm across her shoulders. Sam had stopped before reaching her, and bow stood between his brother and the rest of the bikers.

Ellen's headache increased. Why were they protecting her?

The biker, not liking this change of events, took a step forward, only to be met with the barrel of a pistol poking his chest. He hesitated.

"Last warning," Dean said slowly. "I think you've overstayed your welcome. It's time to leave." As he was speaking, dean moved the girl over to his other side, and right into Sam's arms. The girl didn't say a word, nor did she try to resist. Sam looked at her with concern. Ignoring the scene before him, he tilted his head down to her level.

"Evee, are you okay?" he asked quietly. Ellen's eyes widened. This was Evee? No wonder Dean was stopping anything from going wrong. Tex had told her all about Evee. Piss her off, and Ellen's bar could go up in flames in a matter of minutes. She was suddenly very grateful for Dean's smooth-talking mouth.

At the sight of a weapon drawn, the other hunters in the room had pulled their own. Cliff, an older hunter had stood up from his seat at the sight. He caught Ellen's eye and she shook her head once. Immediately she heard safeties click into place, and several hunters sat down. Ellen almost smiled. Everyone in the room except her five new customers and the Winchesters were watching for her cues, waiting for her to tell them what to do. Man, she had them trained well.

The biker's peons started to get a little antsy, obviously nervous that their fearless leader was standing at the business end of a gun. Slowly and casually, Ellen brought out her own weapon and pointed it at them. Jo did the same, and Ellen almost laughed at the bored expression on her face. This wasn't the first time they'd had to protect their saloon. "I'd put those back if I were you," she drawled non-threateningly.

The biker seemed to loose some of the confidence he had previously at the sight of the guns. He thought about it for a second, and then decided that one hot piece of ass wasn't worth getting shot over. Glaring at Dean, he turned and strutted over to his table. He picked up his jacket, and then walked out the door, peons following hastily after him.

Dean sighed and sat down on the now vacant bar stool. Something cold hit his hand, and he looked up. Ellen stood there holding a beer out to him.

"On the house," she said, and he raised an eyebrow. She shrugged. "You just saved my bar, the least I can do is give you a beer."

Dean chuckled as he accepted the bottle. "Tex called, huh?" he said. Ellen nodded, and then crossed her arms.

"What happened?" she asked. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for two days."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah," he said, "sorry about that, the phone died –"

"Dean."

Dean turned around. Sam was looking at Evee worriedly. It seemed she was no longer conscious; Sam's hold being the only thing keeping her up. Dean's eyes widened. "Ellen-"

"Third door in the back. There should be some cots already set out for you."

Dean thanked her as Sam hoisted Evee up into his arms, then followed his little brother into the back of the saloon. Whatever questions they had for Evee could wait until tomorrow.

_A/N: the good news about my late updates: I'm actually done with Part I of my story! I've even gotten a few chapters into Part II. Funny thing is: most of the work I do is on the computer, so my free time usually consists of the time I'm away from the computer. The result: a crap-load of my story is written, but has yet to be typed. sigh At least I know where I'm going, right?_


	10. Chapter 9

The room they were staying in had been a storage room at one point, but Ellen had cleared it out recently as the Winchester boys' visits became more frequent. It now contained a few small pieces of furniture and three cots. The third had been added about two hours ago to accommodate the new guest.

Dean entered the room to find Sam gazing intently at an unconscious Evee as if he could simply will her awake. Highly amused but determining that now was not the best time tease his little brother, Dean instead cleared his throat and waited for Sam to give him his full attention.

As Sam's eyes locked on him, he spoke. "I just got off the phone with Tex," Dean began. "Apparently Tristan disappeared the day after we left. No note; just Jeff's dead body at the end of the bed." He sighed and sat on one of the free cots.

Sam looked over at him, confused. "How did he die?" he asked.

"Spontaneous combustion, "Dean said, eyeing Sam pointedly. "The coroner says that his heart burned from the inside. Tex told me that Evee was the one that found him."

"She was in shock," Sam concluded.

Dean nodded and leaned forward. "So get this: yesterday, Tex tells her that you and I should be reporting back in to the roadhouse by tonight. He says that's the first time she'd actually _looked_ at anyone since she'd found Jeff. He went to check on her this morning, and she was gone."

Sam looked at Evee. "She just left?" he asked.

"Apparently," Dean confirmed. He smirked, "but somehow, she also managed to steal Tex's car, drive to her house, pack some stuff, and drive off on her bike. I just got finished putting it in the back."

Sam sighted and sat back into his chair. He looked at his brother. "Why'd she come to us?" he wondered.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know man, but I hope she's back to normal when she wakes up. She's hot, and I don't think the two of us are gonna be able to fend off all the pickup lines. The Roadhouse will be burnt to the ground by ten tonight."

Sam was about to reply when he heard moaning coming from behind him. Evee's brows were drawn down, and a frown marred her face. Sam watched as her head tossed from side to side.

"I think she's having a bad dream," he commented, concerned. Dean stood and walked over to the cot just as Evee started to thrash around. His eyes widened.

"I've seen that look before," his voice betraying a panic that only Sam could recognize. "She's having a vision. Hold her down!"

By now, Evee was cradling her head in her hands, her groans of pain becoming louder. Dean held onto her legs to keep her from hurting herself. Sam moved to grab her arms to do the same, but the moment his hands touched her skin, it felt like a jolt of electricity went through his body. He heard Dean scream his name before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his sight went black.

A moment later, Sam could see again.

Huge machines filled the building. There were no windows, but the yellow florescent lights showed a flight of stairs leading up to his left. There were three doors on the wall to his right. The middle door opened, and through the gloom he could make out the figure of a seated person. Sam could feel a pressure on his left hand.

Sam blinked, and he found himself inside of the room. The figure in the center was male, though with his head hanging down, Sam could not see his face. His shirt and pajama pants were in tatters, with blood staining the cloth in many places. His dirty blonde hair was blotted with dirt and blood. The pressure increased, and for the first time Sam realized that a hand was holding his own.

This was unusual. Usually in his dreams, Sam was just a bystander. Most of the time, he saw the visions through the killer's eyes. Right now he was in Evee's premonition, and it seemed as if she was able to walk freely throughout the event. Could he do that? Sam was contemplating the possibility when a woman with dark hair stepped out of a shadowed corner. She walked over to the chained man, smirking. Standing in front of him, she pulled her hand back slowly. The sharp crack of her slap echoed throughout the otherwise empty room.

The pressure on Sam's hand increased until it was almost painful. Automatically, he looked over to his hand. What he saw surprised him.

He could actually _see_ Evee. He hadn't even noticed her physical presence before his moment. He suspected she had been there the whole time. She was wearing the same clothes that she had on in the 'real' world. Her gaze was locked on the man handcuffed to the metal chair. The expression on Evee's face almost broke Sam's heart.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Tris," she mumbled, dejected. Suddenly Sam understood. The handcuffed man was Tristan. He hadn't run away, someone had taken him. Sam had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had a strong idea who, or rather what that woman was…

Leading Evee gently, Sam moved over toward the side so that he could get a better look at the woman's face.

Tristan coughed a bit, and then spit some blood out of his mouth. He raised his head to the woman and scowled at her. She slapped him again, and laughed when his head went limp again.

"Just kill me," Tristan said weakly.

The woman chuckled. Using her forefinger, she lifted up his chin up and leaned down until their noses were almost touching. "Don't worry," she said apathetically, "I need you alive for now." She smiled, but her eyes held no warmth. "I'm afraid though, that you're just too volatile to be my host for an extended period of time."

As Sam watched as the woman's eyes turned a sickening shade of yellow, he swallowed hard. _Damn it._

If Tristan noticed the change, he didn't show it. "Why?" he asked softly.

The woman smirked and released his chin, causing his head to fall down uselessly. Turning away, she spoke. "Tell you what," she said casually, "I'll kill you, swift and painlessly." She paused and turned to face him. "After you do something for me."

Tristan frowned at her. "What?" he asked.

The woman walked over to him playfully, and then went down to whisper into his ear. Straining to hear, Sam leaned in close. Tristan jerked back in horror. "No!" he screamed. The woman stepped back, and then a huge black cloud burst from her mouth. As the last of the cloud spewed out, she fell to the floor, unconscious.

The black mass hovered in the air for a moment. Tristan stared up at it, confused. Then, without warning, the inky cloud converged on him, forcing itself inside his body.

Immense pain flooded Sam's chest, and he nearly doubled over. When he looked up, Tristan was leering at the young woman with cold, yellow eyes. "I'll let you have a front row seat," he said in a low voice.

The pain in his chest increased, and Sam realized that it wasn't his own. He looked over to Evee to find her ready to collapse from pain. Sam felt the world spin. He clutched to Evee's hand like a lifeline. He barely heard the woman scream in agony, nor did he see the flames.

As he began to fall to the floor, a hand appeared out of nowhere, grabbing his right shoulder. It pulled Sam viciously to the right, sending him off balance. The action caused his hand to be ripped out from Evee's.

It felt like he had fallen off the edge of a cliff, his body weight never hitting the floor.

Sam bolted off the Roadhouse floor seconds later, his mind once again in the same room as his body. Dean had his hands on both of his shoulders, the contact having been the catalyst to ending his participation in Evee's vision. Breathing hard, Sam looked wildly around for a moment as if he didn't understand what he was seeing. When Sam continued to be unresponsive, Dean did the only thing hi could think of: shake Sam wildly and scream at him.

"Sam? Sammy! You okay?" Dean asked repeatedly.

The shaking did it, and Sam found himself fending off his brother's advances. "Dude, I'm fine. Will you stop trying to turn my brain into a smoothie?"

The boys heard a moan behind them, and Sam remembered Evee. He wasn't sure if she was out of the vision as well. So when he turned around to look at her, it took him by surprise to see her nearly white, wide eyes staring blankly at him.

Evee was currently trying to crawl into the fetal position and rock back and forth at the same time. Sam's psychology classes kicked in. she was going back into shock, the stress of finding a dead body in her brother's room compounded with the realization of what had actually happened to Tristan.

Knowing he needed to do something, but not being sure of what there was for him _to_ do, Sam rose on shaky legs. He crawled up onto the bed, ignoring Dean's protest of him getting any closer to the person that had triggered his precognitive powers. Sam rested his back on the wall the cot had been leaned against, and then pulled an unresisting Evee into his lap.

Dean threw his hands up into the air at his brother's irresponsible actions. "What the hell, man?" he asked. "You going domestic on me? I swear this is turning into one big chick-flick mo-"

"The demon has Tristan." Sam interrupted softly, and Dean froze. Sam's voice had been devoid of any hint of emotion, conveying his seriousness. Sam rarely spoke in that tone, and when he did, Dean listened. And shut up.

Dean cursed softly to himself. Of course Sam would react that way to this new information. Hell, he'd be hard pressed to keep his mocha persona given that information. Feeling crappy for his harsh judgments earlier, Dean moved to the cot and took Evee's hand. He squeezed it a little as he made a silent promise to her that he would return her brother to her safely. She wouldn't lose any more of her family. This promise to keep her surviving family in tact was similar to the one he had made to his father as he had stared into the flames surrounding the man's body.

Promise made, Dean moved to go. Evee, however, didn't seem to want to let go of his hand. Dean contemplated trying to escape her vice-like grip, but decided that she'd lost enough for the night. He gave his brother a glare that promised death if he said a word of this later (to which Sam only shrugged), and moved to sit on the pillow of the cot.

As Dean propped himself against the wall adjacent to his brother, the cot groaned in protest of the addition of a third weight to its flimsy frame.

Dean looked to Sam to make a humorous remark to lighten the mood, only to find both of the cot's other occupants fast asleep.


	11. CHapter 10

"No."

"Aww, come on!"

"Absolutely not!"

"C'mon Dean, please?"

Dean crossed his arms, glaring down at the girl in front of him. "No Evee," he said commandingly, "it's not exactly like Sam and I are on vacation you know. What we do is _dangerous_. You could get hurt, or worse." Responsible speech done, he turned to leave the room. Evee slipped in front of him.

"You tell me about the demon, and how it's killed all of these people. How it killed my mom and _both _of your parents, and now you expect me to just sit here like a good little girl while you and Sam go off to fight?" She put her hands on her hips. "No sir, not happening. I want to be out there too. What good was it to show me what goes 'bump' in the night if you weren't going to let me do anything about it?"

Dean's eyes narrowed and his anger started to take over. "If I had known you were going to react like this, I would have lied to you!" he yelled. "Evee, we're not even going after the demon, this is just a normal hunt. I know you want to help, but I am not taking a rookie out to get herself killed. I've got enough on my conscience already!" He realized his mistake after the words left his mouth. Evee scowled up at him, and the temperature in the room spiked. Visibly pissed, she turned on her heel and marched out the door, nearly knocking the door off its hinges in the process.

Dean winced in sympathy for the door, and then turned towards an almost amused Ellen, who had been watching from behind the bar. Without a word, she placed a cold beer in front of her. Dean gave her a grateful look as he sat on one of the bar stools, and then took a bug gulp of his beer. Ellen shook her head at the abused door.

"You know," she said casually, "If you don't take her with you, she's gonna disappear about ten minutes after you leave. She'll get herself killed goin' it alone, and then where'll your conscience be?"

Dean sighed into his beer. Two days after the 'joint vision,' Sam had found them a hunt. It wasn't anything ostentatious, but knowing how trouble seemed to make magnets out of him and his brother…

Sam was currently standing over a very subdued Ash, wisely choosing to stay clear of the battlefield. Ash was presently struggling to find more information on the hunt. His black eye, however, was slowing him down a bit.

Dean had found out the previous day that the signs had briefly triangulated the demon's positioning to be in the outskirts of Jourdanton Texas. The subsequent blip on Ash's 'demon-tracking' radar had been so brief that the MIT dropout had thought it to be his imagination. Dean, temper already on a short leash from the previous night's 'vision party,' had acted completely on reflex. The result was a black-and blue, swollen eye socket that Jo had nearly gutted him for.

Dean sighted again, and ran a hand through his hair. He really should apologize to Ash. He turned back to Ellen instead.

"I know she'll run off if we don't take her, but what am I supposed to do? She'll get hurt Ellen. She doesn't even know the first thing about hunting –"

"So train her." It took all of Dean's skill not to jump at someone being so close to him without his knowledge. Jo was standing behind him, her dish-bin balanced on one hip. Ellen looked hard at Jo, but Jo ignored it by talking directly to Dean. "Even if you managed to keep her here until it was time to find her brother, she'd still be practically dead weight to you anyways." She shrugged. "It wouldn't be that hard anyway. She's already got the military stuff done, and she's been trained from the cradle to follow the chain of command. Just teach her how to kill stuff."

Dean looked ready to protest, but Jo cut him off again. "Look," she said, irritated that he, once again, wasn't hearing her out. "Evee will be there when you go to get her brother, period. Do you want her as an asset or a liability? It's your choice." She grabbed his beer, took a swig, and dumped it into the bin. She then disappeared into the back, Ellen hot on her heels.

Hunting was still a sore subject with the Roadhouse girls. It had taken a while for the Winchesters to build up enough courage to return to the hunter's haven. Upon their return, Ellen had apologized, but it had taken a few days for her to warm up to them again. Jo had been a little tougher. The feeling of betrayal had taken months to dissipate. There were still moments where she was unusually cold toward Dean.

Dean sighed and leaned on the bar. Seeing the end of the conversation, Sam walked over to his brother. He knew what decision Dean would make. Like John, Dean Winchester always picked the lesser of two evils. That didn't mean it was any easier on his conscience.

As Sam reached him, he heard Dean mumble, "Dad would kill us for this, you know," and couldn't help but chuckle. Yes, their father would have been furious, but it was the only decision to make. Sam suddenly felt the need to reassure his brother somehow.

"You know," he said to Dean, "Evee's powers are much more developed than mine. She may be able to teach me how to control some of them." He saw Dean's shoulders relax slightly and smiled inwardly.

"Okay," Dean said resignedly. "But when she starts PMSing, remember that I allowed this on your go-ahead. He stood and walked out the front door.

Sam moved to the window. Outside, he could see Evee working on her bike. She gave Dean a hard look when he came over. That look turned to shock after a moment, and Sam figured Dean was telling her that she could come along with them.

A grin split Evee's face from ear to ear. Sam chuckled as she launched herself into Dean's startled arms.


	12. Chapter 11

The cold New Jersey weather clung heavily onto the Pine Barrens. The clash and hiss of objects moving through the brush increased. A moment later, a large, red, boar-like creature burst through, a wailing child hanging from its mouth. Its red eyes glowed as it raced through the trees. A moment later, Dean followed, lungs heaving and shirt torn.

They'd come in on a lead that campers were coming back into town yelling about the Jersey Devil. What they had found was a rather portly version of the original that had been abducting small children from their campsites. Being early December, it had taken two days to find campers with a child small enough to wet the creature's appetite. After breaking camp a few yards away, they'd taken turns as lookouts to watch for the Devil. Their camp was small; they didn't want the campers to know they were there.

Sure enough, just as Dean was relieving Sam from his watch, the large swine strolled into the clearing, ripped open a tent, and ran off with a terrified little boy. Dean was up and running before it had reached the trees, yelling behind him. He and Sam had followed the boar into the woods and split up somewhere in the trees so they could get it if it tried to turn either way.

Dean cursed under his breath as the rustling abruptly changed course and headed in the opposite direction. Why were these people camping in December anyways? Were they stupid? "It's doubling back!" he yelled into the woods, hoping Sam was close enough to hear.

Dean made a sharp left, hoping to cut the creature off. A few moments later, he could see a flashlight ahead and to the right of him. Shortly after, Sam's lanky form burst through the trees. Seeing his brother, Sam adjusted his position and headed straight for Dean. They had almost reached each other when a streak of red burst past them, a wailing child's cry echoing after it. Both men corrected their course immediately, heading back toward camp.

As Dean ran, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Hitting speed dial, he put the phone to his ear and repeated his earlier words into the receiver. "Protect the family!" he yelled, and then slammed the phone shut and returned it to his pocket.

The boar was much faster than them, and was already out of sight ahead of them. They wouldn't get back to the camp in time…

A woman screamed, and a shot broke out through the quiet night, startling both boys. Sam, with his long legs, started running even faster, gaining a few feet on his shorter brother. The clearing was just ahead. Dean took out his gun, ready for anything. He stepped out into the clearing –

– and nearly ran into Sam, who had stopped abruptly.

"Hey boys, done with your hike?" Evee asked casually. The scene before them was almost comical. She was sitting in a fold-up chair by the fire, her rifle resting across her lap. The boy sat on the ground by the pig 's carcass, balling his eyes out. His father was currently scrambling down from a picnic table and heading towards his son. Behind them, the mother and older sister of the little boy were holed up in their SUV, their terrified faces fogging up the glass. A white circle of salt surrounded the vehicle.

Sa, heaved a breath from the marathon he'd just run. He and Dean walked over to the corpse that stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of the camp. He kneeled down to examine the body. A neat, nickel-sized hole stood dead center between the creature's eyes. Noting the eyes were still glowing, he looked up to Dean.

It'll recover," Sam said. Evee stood and walked over to the brothers, swinging her rifle over her shoulder. "Nice shot." He commented, and she grinned.

Before reaching the corpse, Evee stopped where the little boy was being held by his father. She gave him the once over. The kid was fine, the boar had apparently picked him up by his clothes. He had a few scratches from some branches, and a runny nose from his trip through the cold woods, but there were no major marks on him.

Satisfied with his health, she returned to the Winchesters. Sam saw the look in Dean's eyes and braced for impact.

"I told you to protect the family," he said in a low voice, "not go after the thing! What if you had shot the kid, huh?" Evee looked taken aback for a moment at the reprimand, but she recovered quickly. Propping the gun off her shoulder, she shifted and squared her shoulders, defiance in every move. She placed her free hand on her hip as she stared unblinkingly at the older brother. She didn't even flinch when the gun went off (though everyone else did), and her eyes darkened to steel gray.

The gun had been aimed at the boar, and upon this second shot, the glowing eyes darkened and clouded over. The body quickly disintegrated to a pile of bones.

"I did," Evee told Dean, voice dangerously hard. "I protected the _whole_ family. And if you have that little faith in my marksmanship, it's a wonder you let me protect anyone at all." Sam stared nervously at the literally fuming woman before him. He saw Dean shift out of the corner of his eye, and knew he was the only person that could sense his brother's nervousness.

Evee had acclimated quickly to the Winchester's mannerisms and regiments. She already knew the military jargon, and had used her historian's sticky memory to assimilate and memorize practically everything the boys had taught her about hunting. She understood the one-word sentences that even their father had trouble deciphering in the past. After asking her how, Evee had shrugged and told him that her recurring dream had allowed her to study the brothers extensively.

Evee and Dean had fought several times in the two months since she had joined their little team. The mood was usually playful; indeed, the fighting tended to be a game of 'who had the last word.' Dean would make some sarcastic remark, a playful challenge in his eyes. Evee would always meet him head-on, her ice-blue eyes dancing. Sam, actually found their lighthearted banter entertaining, often pausing in his research to watch them go at it for an hour or more. The game only ended when one person ran out of things to say, and surprisingly, Evee won as much as Dean did.

The only time the arguments turned ugly was when Dean wrongly criticized Evee's hunting skills. After practically every hunt, Dean would mouth off to her without thinking. Evee's eyes would narrow and her eyes would darken. The temperature surrounding them would spike noticeably. She'd yet to intentionally burn either of them, and Sam always made sure to step in between them before she literally blew up at his idiotic older brother.

Clearing his throat and stepping between them to break the staring contest that had developed, he gave Dean a look that translated into 'you're an idiot,' and addressed the family the two hotheads he traveled with had completely forgotten about. "It's alright," Sam said with a reassuring smile, "the thing is dead now, it won't come after your son again."

The mother and daughter had climbed out of the protected SUV, and were currently hugging the life out of a whimpering little boy. The father looked at them solemnly before saying a quiet 'thank you.'

Sam looked at Evee, who had the grace to look ashamed at her actions. "We need to salt and burn the body," he continued to the family, "but then we'll be on our way."

The mother looked infinitely relieved that all evidence of tonight's events would be leaving their camp. She stood up and ushered her two children to the other side of the car so they wouldn't see the bones set on fire. The husband, however, stayed and walked up to Sam. "Is that normal?" he asked.

Sam moved so that the man could not fully see the body. He knew their lighter was in the glove box of the Impala. The only way to light this sucker up was for Evee to do it, and Sam doubted the man could handle another supernatural encounter tonight.

No, it isn't really normal," he replied. "My friends and I hunt dangerous stuff like that all across the country." He felt the air around him heat, and knew Evee had set the corpse ablaze.

"Did it have rabies, or something?" the father asked, not understanding.

"Not exactly," Sam replied. "It's a little more science fiction than that." He gestured to Dean and Evee. "You may not believe me, but we hunt unnatural stuff. That boar wasn't really alive." He saw the skeptical expression on the father's face and sighed. It was really hard to get normal people to understand the supernatural without fully ripping away the veil.

Body salted and burned, Sam retreated with Dean to toward their own camp. Evee lagged behind, saying a few words to the father and slipping something into his hand. She then ran to catch up with the brothers.

"What was that about?" Dean asked, to distracted trying to navigate the trail to really care about the answer.

Evee shrugged noncommittally. "I just suggested they move their camp slightly to escape the smell." Dean grunted in reply, and Evee smoothly changed the subject. "So," she asked casually, "can we get a hotel early tomorrow? I don't think I can go a third day in the car with you two without you showering."

Dean slid into his sleeping bag, never missing a beat. "Well after two days, you don't smell like roses yourself, sweetheart."

Evee stuck her tongue out at him, and then slid into her own sleeping bag. Sam added a log to their fire, and then did the same.

_A/N: WOOT! Part II is up and rolling!_


	13. Chapter 12

_A/N: Alright guys, I know that the last couple of chapters I submitted came out in a big rush, but you guys are really going to have to give me some feedback here. I know that for most of you, the answer will come in the form of a personal preference, but I'm curious as to your opinions, so indulge me, please. _

_Which Winchester brother should get Evee?_

_A: Sam_

_B: Dean_

_C: Both_

_As I said before, C is my personal favorite, though I will admit it isn't very realistic. I know I'm greedy, but hey, there are so many cute and sexy moments I could add to this story. PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! I NEED AT LEAST 10 REVIEWS!!!!_

Chapter 2: Knock Before Entering

They had to drive to the next town at sun-up (for safety's sake), but navigating the back trails without coffee didn't seem to be one of Dean's many talents. It took them so long to find the main road that it was noon by the time they reached a suitable motel on the outskirts of Chatsworth, New Jersey.

Several unforeseen obstacles (Dean called them 'speed bumps') had appeared with the addition of Evee as their third hunter. The first 'bump' had been something none of them had thought of until their first stop at a hotel.

When Sam and Dean had been on hunts with their father when they were younger, the brother's had shared a bed (John taking the other twin mattress). After Sam had hit his growth spurt, John had taken a second room, secure in the fact that his boys could handle themselves if left together. Evee however, was still a relatively new hunter. Her powers still reacted mostly by instinct, and if attacked while alone, she would most likely burn down half of the motel before the brothers could reach her. Dean could handle a room by himself, so could Sam, but Dean wasn't about to let his little brother out of his sight, so that idea was no good. Therefore, the trio decided that staying in one room was the only option.

This raised an obvious problem: two beds plus three people equals someone doubling up. Dean wasn't about to sleep in the same bed as his brother (at least in front of Evee, truth be told, they'd done it so much as kids, he didn't really mind), and Evee flat-out refused to sleep in the same bed as him. Sam could be trusted to keep his hands to himself, but he barely fit on the bed _alone_. They used cots when the motels had them, and sometimes even lucked out with a fold-out couch, but at times one member was forced to use a sleeping bag on the floor.

Dean acquired a room, walked out of the dirty lobby, and got back into the car. Turning to the other two occupants of the car, he said, "Room 124. I'm going to get some gas, one of you see about lunch."

Giggling, Evee gave Dean a mock-salute. "Yessir!" she replied. Sam grinned. Dean shot them a look as they exited the car, bags in hand.

Inside the room was spare; much like the countless motels they'd stayed before. The air smelled musty, and there were several stains on the walls. Sam didn't know if Dean had asked for a cot, but he figured one of them could get it later.

Evee placed her bag on one of the beds, and then turned to Sam. "So," she asked, "I saw a diner about a block down the road, do you want me to go get the food?" Sam shook his head.

"No," he said, "I know what Dean likes, so I'll go. You go ahead and take your shower." As Evee's face lit up, he chuckled. "See, I didn't forget. I hope though that you can stand my stench for a little longer."

Evee slapped him on the arm. "It's not like that, and you know it," she stated indignantly.

Laughing, Sam moved his duffle over to the opposite bed and pulled out his sneakers. He'd been wearing his boots out in the forest, leaving them now caked with mud. Slipping on the clean shoes, he placed his boots by the bathroom door. "You want a burger?" Sam asked casually as he made his way to the door.

"Yes please," said Evee as she rummaged through her bag, "No mustard!" Finding her toiletry bag, Evee zipped up her bag and walked into the bathroom just as Sam shut the front door behind him.

The bathroom wasn't in any better condition than the rest of the hotel room, but after two months of seedy motels and filthy diner restrooms, Evee was almost completely desensitized to it. Still, she couldn't stop her nose from scrunching up at the yellow and black mold on the tiled wall.

Evee turned to lock the door, and frowned when she saw that there wasn't one. She shrugged and shut the door. The boys would knock if they heard the shower going.

xXx

"_Two-eighty _agallon? Man, what a rip-off," Dean mumbled to himself as he parked the Impala in front of the motel. It was getting _way_ too expensive to drive cross-country nowadays.

Picking up two bags (one of clothes, one of weapons), Dean stumbled into room 124. He put his bags on the table, laughing when he heard the shower running. Sam's shoes were by the door, his bag on the bed unzipped. He chuckled again. Evee had probably repeated her little tantrum from last night, and forced Sam to take a shower.

The sound of the shower stopped, and Dean groaned inwardly. He really had to pee. Sam could spend twenty minutes on his hair, and Dean wasn't very thrilled at the thought of seeing his brother in a towel. His bladder constricted as the choice was made for him.

Dean walked over to the door and knocked once before opening the door. The room was still foggy from the heat of the shower, and it took him a minute to adjust. "Hey Sam," he said, "You mind if I use the head while you put your makeup-"

There was a loud scream as something whizzed past his ear. "_DEAN!_" Evee shouted as she clutched a towel to her body. She had been about to change in to her clothes when the eldest Winchester had come storming in. Not really knowing who it was, she'd thrown her knife at the intruder on reflex.

As Dean just stood there like a dear in headlights, and Evee seriously considered pulling her gun. The faint sound of a door being opened and the rustling of a paper bag caught her ears.

"Hey Dean, I – what are you doing?!" Evee watched as Dean was shoved backwards by an invisible force, the door shutting after him. She then heard the younger Winchester berating his brother, followed by the slightly distressed voice of Dean as he defended himself.

Not long after joining the brothers on their hunts, she had started helping Sam develop his powers. It had taken a while for him to gain enough control to move things mentally at will, but he was starting to get the hang of it. It still took a bit of adrenalin for him to summon the strength to move a person though. That he had propelled Dean out of the bathroom _and _closed the door proved that he was really starting to get the hang of his telekinesis.

Evee tried to resist laughing as she pulled on her clothes. Dean must have sufficiently startled Sam for him to use his powers like that.

Outside of the bathroom, Sam looked at Dean in disbelief. "I can't believe you," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you know how to _knock_?"

"I did," Dean defended, "it's not my fault she didn't lock the door…"

Sam shook his head in exasperation. "What if the door doesn't lock, Dean? It's not just the two of us anymore; you can't just barge in without making sure who's in there."

Dean lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay." He said. "Point taken, next time, I'll knock."

"Good," Evee said, leaving the bathroom. She went to her knife, which was lodged in the wall, and pulled it out. "'Cause next time I won't miss."


	14. Chapter 13

A/N: I know you probably don't want to deal with my excuses for the delay of game, so I'll just say, "I'm sorry," and get on with the show.

Chapter 13: Siphon

Evee's eyes opened suddenly as she tried desperately to control her breathing. She sat up on her cot and looked around. Both boys were still asleep. Evee sighed thankfully.

She hadn't told the Winchesters about her dream; truth was she didn't know if she ever could. They only knew she had dreamt about them before that night with the werewolves, and that was good enough.

Evee sat up and grabbed the bottle of water under her cot. For a while, she just sat there looking at her boys. She felt bad at times like these; but if Sam knew she still had them, he would try and 'sit in' on her visions like he had before. If either of them found out about her dream ('D-Day' as she was beginning to call it), there was no way they'd let her keep going on hunts with them. Evee felt her chest constrict; she had to find Tristan. This was the only way. The boys traveled all over the country, and if she went with them, she might detect her brother somewhere.

Knowing that she wouldn't get back to sleep, Evee sighed and stood. Going over to the table, she booted up Sam's laptop and checked her email.

This is how Sam found her four hours later. New papers were strewn around the table, along with two empty cups of coffee. Evee sat, hunched over the computer, her fingers clattering softly against the keys.

"Sleep much," Sam asked groggily as he tried to get his bearings. Evee gave him a distracted smile, her typing never faltering.

"Remember that couple in Plainfield, Indiana? The ones with the nymph in their pool?" without waiting for an answer, she continued. "Well, apparently their cousin in Illinois told them that several people have gone missing in the back roads of Carbondale. They thought it might be something right up our alley."

Sam stood, momentarily forgetting that he was clad only in boxers and a wife-beater. He stumbled over to Evee's chair and leaned over it, bracing his arm on the backrest. He stared uncomprehendingly at the screen before him for a moment, and then looked at her questioningly. "You gave them your email?"

Evee grimaced. She'd had the idea to keep in contact with the people they'd helped on her second hunt. Afraid that Dean would shoot down her idea, she'd kept it to herself until the secret had become habit. "Yeah," she said to Sam nervously, "I've been doing it for a while. I figured that anyone exposed to the stuff we hunt would be able to find future hunts more easily. I figured Dean would have a cow if I suggested it."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, he probably would," he conceded, "but you know he's just looking out for you. Dean takes on a lot."

"What about Dean?" a rough voice spoke from behind them. Evee turned to see a very mussed Dean sitting up in bed. He rubbed his eyes as he yawned. "What about me," he repeated.

Sam shrugged as he straightened his back. "Evee found us a hunt," he said nonchalantly. Dean opened his eyes to look at them.

"She did?" he asked.

"In Illinois," Evee piped up.

Dean addressed Sam as he stood. "How does it look?"

Sam picked up some papers and leafed through them. "Looks like she might be onto something. Seems as though the city of Carbondale has a Siphon."

Dean stretched, and then flashed Evee an award-winning smile. "Well then," he said happily, "let's head out." With that, he walked into the bathroom, and shut the door. Evee turned to Sam with a curious expression on her face. Sam just winked, and then went off to find his pants so he could go get breakfast.

Evee was right; Dean would probably turn Evee's idea down if she brought it up. But he didn't have to know it was _her_ idea; and Sam could ease him into it eventually.

xXx

"So what's a Siphon?"

They were on the road again. It would take about fifteen hours to get to Illinois, but seeing as there were three registered drivers present, they wouldn't be stopping overnight. Evee sat in the passenger seat, leaning against the doorframe. Sam was asleep in the back, waiting for his turn to drive.

Dean answered Evee's question, smiling at how she never seemed to miss a beat. He'd trained this hunter well. "Siphons are pretty much like a giant whirlpool; it sucks in anything alive. They're non-sentient sand traps that spring up every once in a while when the supernatural shit gets too concentrated somewhere else. The only ones that really get noticed are on top of roads. That's when people start to disappear."

Evee shuffled through some papers before speaking up. "But what about the fact nobody has disappeared during the day?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe the road is invisible in daylight," he suggested. "It happens. Books call them 'Lost Roads' or 'Demon Roads.'"

Evee settled for a moment, John Winchester's journal in her lap. "The journal says we have to put some stuff into the center of the concentration to weaken it until it evens out." She looked up sharply at Dean. "We have to go _into_ the whirlpool?" she asked incredulously.

Dean smirked at her ruefully. "Gotta get your hand wet to pull the stopper out of the tub," he said simply, "Our job is full of risks Evee, this is no different."

xXx

Carol White jumped and nearly sliced her finger off as the doorbell rang. She placed the knife back on the counter and glanced nervously towards the front door.

The entire city of Carbondale was on edge. Several of the local college students had gone missing, leaving the town eerily quiet, as the people grew more and more frightened. Lunch forgotten, she jumped a second time as the bell rang again.

Carol didn't know what she was expecting when the door, but it definitely wasn't what she saw. Two men around her age stood in front of her in gray suits. The tall one wore his hair long, his eyes greatly resembling a lost puppy. The shorter one caught her attention, and it was almost impossible to look away from his handsome features. Then he smiled, and she forgot to try to avert her eyes.

"Ms. White," Handsome asked. He flashed his wallet to her briefly. "My name is Detective Spade, FBI. This is my partner Detective Archer. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Carol could only nod numbly. She turned on her heel and walked into the living room, completely missing the incredulous glare Miles shot his partner.

Carol sat in a chair, watching as the two attractive men sat on the couch across from her. "What can I do for you, Detectives?" she asked. Carol's voice sounded tired even to her own ears. The men exchanged a glance, before Archer spoke up.

"We understand that your roommate went missing two nights ago. A Miss –," he checked his notepad, "– Ruth Jackson?" Carol nodded, and he continued. "Can you tell us where Ms. Jackson was heading last night?"

Carol closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, Detective Archer was looking at her with concern. Detective Spade just looked impatient. "There's a cabin out at Cedar Lake that some of the college kids go to party."

"Could she have gotten lost in the woods," Spade asked. Carol shook her head.

"She's been there a hundred times before, and besides, the police searched the woods around there. They didn't find anything."

Detective Spade nodded, and then paused. He stared at the coffee table, cocking his head to the side as if he were listening to someone. Archer stood suddenly.

"Well Ms. White, thank you for your time," Archer said. Carol rose automatically, shaking the hand he offered her. Archer turned to his partner and hauled him up off the couch. "We'll be going now."

With that, Detective Archer practically dragged his partner out the door.

_A/N: If you can't figure out who the two detectives are, then I'm really sorry. As for the names: for those of you that don't know, Sam Spade is the detective in the story _The Maltese Falcon_, and Miles Archer is his partner. Both of the cities and the lake in this chapter really exist. If you would like to contest the time that it would take to get from Chatsworth, New Jersey to Carbondale Illinois, check yahoo maps. Carol White and Ruth Jackson are my fictional characters, but I do have cousins that live on Ruth Jackson Rd._

_Please Review!!!!!!!! I still need nine more votes before I start with the sexual frustration stuff. I'll have to put this on hold if you don't; I'm already doing a different story in preparation. This isn't an idle threat. _; )


	15. Chapter 14

_A/N: Sorry for the delay – had a bit of writer's block. I didn't get as many votes as I wanted, so I think I'm going to go for my favorite – though it's the least realistic of the three choices. Anyways, here ya go!_

Chapter 14: Wandering Minds

Evee leaned back in her chair as she pulled the headset off of her ear. She sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Another 'speed bump' the trio had encountered was the fact that though the authorities came in all shapes and sizes, they usually only came in two's. Therefore, when Sam and Dean, already having the right identifications, went out to con information out of the locals, Evee was forced to stay at the hotel. She didn't really mind being left behind (she hated the thought of lying to people just for info), but the wait drove her crazy. After having to deal with the same thing twice, she had gone out and bought earpieces for the boys at a spy store so she could get the play-by-play live. At the same time, she could look up information on the Internet and relay new information to them as well. She smiled despite the oncoming headache; they made a good team.

The brothers were on their way back; all she could do was wait. She hated this time the most because nothing was there to distract her. Without any outside stimuli, Evee's thoughts always returned to her brother. _Tristan, where are you?_ Evee sighed again. She hadn't gotten used to the empty feeling she'd felt at the loss of her brother, and she doubted she ever would. She kept herself busy with hunting and the boys to keep away that picture of her brother, bloody and raw, slouched on his metal chair in defeat. Tears pricked Evee's eyes, and her chest constricted. _I'll find you, _she promised silently, not for the first time.

The lock clicked on the front door and Evee jumped. Hastily wiping her eyes, she thanked her luck that she wasn't facing the door when the boys walked in. Sliding her mask back into place, she turned around –

- to find that Dean had already taken off his button up shirt, and was in the process of removing his A-shirt. Evee tried to hide her shock.

As both Winchesters had relaxed to Evee's presence, so had their formality. They often walked around in their boxers (which wasn't such a big deal, they slept in boxers), and Evee, having grown up with a brother was quite used to the fact. The one thing she couldn't get used to was how _good_ they looked. Both Winchester's bodies, though of different build, were perfect. They held the musculature of seasoned fighters. She couldn't help but blush every time she saw one of them without a shirt on; a fact that Dean never failed to take advantage of, once he had figured it out.

Dean had been watching Evee through the mirror. He smirked. "Like what you see, princess?" he asked casually. Sam groaned and smacked him upside the head while Evee glared at him.

"Dude, focus," Sam said in a tired voice. He turned to Evee. "You said you knew where that cabin was, right?" he asked.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Evee turned back to the computer. "Yeah," she said, clicking a few keys, then spinning the laptop around to face him. An image of a lake was on the screen. Evee leaned over the table so that she was looking at the lake upside down. "Here," she said, pointing to the top of the water. "Once you get off the main road, there are two turns we have to make, but other than that, its smooth sailing."

We'll head out to the cabin in an hour," Dean said (he had thankfully put another shirt on), "then away from it after dark so we'll know which road wasn't there before."

Sam, already rummaging through his duffel to get a change of clothes, looked at him curiously. "So what are we going to do until then?" he asked.

Dean flashed his million-dollar smile. "I thought we could give Evee some more practice at the pool table," he said mischievously.

Evee grinned. She was getting better at pool (a game she hadn't played until meeting the boys), but she doubted she'd ever be as good of a pool shark as Dean. While Sam and Dean ruled pool and poker, she always got the most money from playing darts, that is, whenever the hole-in-the-wall, back alley small-town bars they found had a dart board. Evee stood and grabbed her dark red leather jacket and a ponytail holder knowing she'd need to keep her long hair out of her eyes tonight.

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The abandoned cabin that the college kids used to hold their parties turned out to be more of a large shack with a dirt floor, no rooms, and one window. The party had already started before they arrived and the room was crowded. Despite the cold outside, the room was warm; the multitude of dancing bodies heating the area. Someone had set up a sound system away from the front door, the base making the walls vibrate.

Evee watched Dean out of the corner of her eye for the smirk that she knew would appear. She was rewarded seconds later as two college girls squeezed past him to get out the door.

"This is my kind of place!" he said happily, and both Evee and Sam laughed at the childlike excitement on his face.

Sam recovered first. "Dude, focus!" he said.

Dean looked at him mischievously. "Aww, come on, Sammie," he said, "we've got a couple of hours until sunset. Why not have some fun?" with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Sam gave Evee a pained look. "C'mon Sam," Evee tried, "We're going to lose each other in this crowd eventually anyway. Go get a beer, and I'll see you by the car after sunset." She shoved him playfully away before turning in the opposite direction.

Pressing through people, Evee found an empty patch of wall to lean against. She was glad she had opted to leave her jacket in the Impala; the humid air would have been hard to take otherwise. She wore faded hip huggers, a dark purple baby-T (whose logo had faded into an unrecognizable pattern long ago), and a leather chord was wrapped twice around her neck like a choker. Combat boots were essential footwear when one ran for their lives every other week.

Evee watched the writhing crowd distractedly. She hadn't danced in a long time, but it wasn't easy to find time to relax like that in her line of work.

"Um, excuse me?"

Evee turned to the man, her face carefully blank. Was this guy trying to pick her up? She had a gun strapped to her ankle for cryin' out loud! "Yes?" she yelled carefully over the music. The man faltered at her standoffish attitude, visibly collected himself, and then spoke.

"My name's Joe," he said, pitching his voice over the noise. "I noticed you standing there by yourself and I was wondering if you, um," he paused. "Do you want to dance?"

Evee blinked. She tried thinking of an excuse, before realizing that she didn't really have one. _Oh well,_ she thought, _I wanted to dance, didn't I?_ She smiled at Joe.

"Sure."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean wandered through the crowd reluctantly. The sun had set; it was time to go to work. He thought back wistfully to Candy, the girl he'd just met, and patted the pocket of his jeans where her number was safely stored. He walked straight through the crowd towards the door.

"Dean!"

Sam appeared at his side, slapping him on the shoulder. "Dude, where have you been, its time to go!"

Dean arched a brow. "I know," he said flatly, "why do you think I was heading _towards_ the exit?" he looked around. "Where's Evee?"

Sam shrugged, watching the people dance. "She said she'd meet us outside."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "You left her alone?" he asked incredulously. Sam gave him a pointed look.

"She could take _both_ of us at the same time, Dean. Plus: she's armed. Do you really think some average jockstrap's gonna manhandle her and not be in a body cast tomorrow?"

"With it this crowded?" Dean scowled and looked for her in the crowd. "She's not going to be able to move, much less get her gun." The hand on his shoulder suddenly clamped down, making him wince. "Dude, you trying to break my arm?" he looked up at Sam, but Sam was staring open-mouthed at something behind him. Following his brother's line of site, Dean looked out at the dance floor. The large group of bodies moved together, writhing to the music.

Evee stood in the center, her hair down and her eyes closed. She swayed in time, oblivious to the world around her and the brothers watching.

Dean's breath hitched. The man dancing behind Evee couldn't keep up as she danced.

"Whoa."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evee had lost track of how many songs had played, and how many men she had danced with. It could have been hours or days since she had started, but she didn't care. This was the release she'd needed for her stress. All of the worries and pain melted away in time with the base. The guy who had his hands on her hips wasn't cutting it; she'd have to change again soon. She knew she had a job, but it all just felt so good.

She kept her eyes closed as she broke away from her partner to dance by herself. A new one would come to her, they always did.

Strong hands gripped her waist, and she smiled to herself. She was slightly surprised when he took the lead; this guy was confident. Evee allowed him to lead her. He was pretty good; she'd give him that. She laid her head against his shoulder exposing her neck.

The music changed as the song ended, but they continued to dance. Evee's eyes fluttered open. She looked around the room lazily. Her eyes caught on Sam's form and she almost laughed at his dumfounded expression.

Warm breath tickled her neck. Her dance partner's lips moved so close to her ear; she could almost feel his lips upon her skin. The voice was low and rough. "Nice moves there, princess."

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her. She spun around quickly to see Dean Winchester smirking down at her.

"Why didn't you tell me you could dance?" he asked playfully, his green eyes sparkling in the darkness. Evee blinked. There was something else there; something darker in his eyes that she couldn't place.

Recovering quickly, she shrugged. "You never asked," she countered. She hazarded a glance at Sam before turning back to Dean. "Time to go?"

Dean chuckled. "Been time," he responded, his voice cocky. He nodded over to Sam. "I think you put him into a coma," he commented casually. He tilted his head over to his brother and yelled over the crowd. "Hey Sammie! Time to go!"

Sam shook his head suddenly, as if he were clearing it. They walked back to the Impala in silence.

_A/N: Whoa, is it hot in here? I like the added heat in the story, 'cause when you think about it, why wouldn't three twenty-somethings yave sex on the brain? Lol, and its just going to get worse over time, meaning I'll probably have to change the rating soon. Oh well, please review!_


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